Near Life Experience
by Whedonist
Summary: A.U., but really, if you do nothing else, read the author's note...
1. Is This Where I End

Hello All!

This is a longish author's note, but don't stop reading yet - In fact if you only read the author's note I'm okay with that. So to be quick, there was this pilot, Nikki & Nora, that only saw the light of day due to some sneaky person at Warner Bros. that leaked it. This unaired pilot's spawned a fairly decent following, and some amazing fanfic (docwho, pprbkwrtr, inspectorboxer, silk, to name a few) and these two ladies have been in my head since I first saw the episode that was ahead of it's time.

Now, as to why I'm taking you down a trip to Gushland over Nikki & Nora, well besides the near half million words that I've written for them, is that they are rebooting the show: The N&N Files (insert appropriately girly squeal of fangirlishness for days on end here).

BUT

They need some help, so they're soliciting donations...yinz know what I'm asking, and if I could, I'd queue up the Sarah McLauchlin-esque ASPCA sympathy to tug on the heart-strings, but really, if you've read any of what I've written for these amazing, totally not mine, characters, and enjoyed it or were entertained by it or moved by it, then I'm begging, give what you can donate at** indiegogo dot com / projects/the-n-n-files?c=gallerylauchlin** (fill in the dots).

In the interim, here's the start of an A.U. featuring these ladies...remember they're not mine...the fact that Nancylee Myatt hasn't hunted me down and taken away my computer is a testament to her awesomeness...so uh, help, I mentioned the begging and the fangirly squeal of squealy joy, and the begging, pretty sure I mentioned that, and help some ladies out...or help me out so I can see the characters come to life on the screen again.

I'm done rambling now...or begging, yep definitely begging...please and thank you!

* * *

**Title:** Near Life Experience

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters – except for one or two. The rest of the ladies and gentleman contained herein belong to entities with a higher pay grade. Thanks for allowing li'l ole me to play; I promise to return them as I found them…just like the tools I borrowed from dad when I was a kid. Also, this is unbeta'd so…mistakes are really all me. Sorry about that.

**Fandom:** Nikki & Nora

**Pairing:** Nikki/Nora

**Rating:** PG-13-ish, there are some adult concetps and themes, but nothing too over the top.

**Summary:** Nikki's not really "Nikki" and Nora's sings a differnt tune.

**A/N:** I've been absent. Between moving, a new job and a 6 hour commute for a month, it's been a bit crazy. Life's starting to right itself so I thought I'd get this up and running to motivate me more. Also it's **psychomonkey_29**'s birthday. Happy birthday.

Aside from above, this story is an A.U.-like really A.U. The two aren't a working two and don't know each other, yet. Dan's still Nora's partner and Nikki, well, you'll see. Read, enjoy. Church has started so I'll be there.

* * *

**Is This Where I End?**

"Dan," I grumble half-heartedly as he passes a thick, no necked bouncer a ten and a twenty for the cover charge, "I can't believe you…"

In the darkened entryway, his smile is bright, infectious and illuminated by the black lighting lining the ceiling. "Come on, partner, you can't tell me that you've never been to one…"

"I didn't say that," I stop him and take a peek through the entryway. I mean, I've been to one or two. Took Bobby on his twenty-first, but I'm thirty-one. I thought this kind of stuff ended after you hit thirty.

He tugs at my jacket sleeve and pulls me the rest of the way through to the main floor, yelling over his shoulder, "Well then, Delaney, you can remove the stick you've got stuck up your ass for tonight. I promise, I won't tell anyone." I'm pulled to a booth with a 'reserved' marker on the table when a man in a suit approaches just as we settle down.

"Mr. Harney?" the guy asks Dan. Tall with a little pudge around the middle, a halo of light brown hair and a scar along the upper left half of his lip, I figure he's been working here a while.

"Hi," Dan greets and sticks out his hand.

The man takes the hand and says, "Geno, manager here at Rusty's. I'll have one of the waitresses swing by with your drinks. Anything in particular you'd like to start off with?"

Dan clamps a hand onto my shoulder and grins another one of his toothy, easy going smiles. The way his eyes crinkle tell me I'm in trouble. A lot of it. "Thanks, Geno. I think we'll start with a Confidence Builder for my partner, I'll take a Voodoo Dew and then two Officer Down's to start." He claps his hands together and amends, "Top shelf tonight. We're celebrating." He nudges me with his shoulder and tells Geno, "It's my girl's birthday."

"Wouldn't be the first girlfriend a guy's brought in," Geno says smiling eyeing me over a little closer.

I'm half tempted to flash the badge in my back pocket, but we're off duty and I'd rather not be treated any more different than being a girl in a strip club whose clientele base is mostly all male. Dan, being the white knight he was born to be, corrects the assumption. "She's my best friend. Her tastes in women match mine. We're celebrating."

"Ah, well, all right then." The manager's grin is a bit wider as he looks down at me. "I'll have those drinks brought out to you. Enjoy the show."

"You want to get me drunk?" I ask as I remove his hand and look around the club.

There are three stages set up at Rusty's. The main one is the largest. Formed like an 'I,' a strip comes out from the center of the middle stage and then extends out equally on the right and left sides; at the end of the bottom of the extensions are polls running from the floor to the ceiling. The other two stages are on either side of the main one back against the walls. Three polls on each are spread equally along their length.

There are dancers at both the smaller stages which just cause me to shake my head. "I still can't believe you brought me here."

Dan shrugs as a waitress comes up and sets four drinks down in front of us. Dan's drink is the color of Mountain Dew and my Confidence Builder is a dark amber due to the whiskey. The Officer Down's are in tall glasses garnished with an orange peel and lime wedge.

He raises his drink for a toast. Obligingly, I raise mine and clink them together. "Happy Birthday, Nora," he says before taking a healthy drink from his glass.

Sipping mine, the house lights dim and the music fades to whispering levels as an announcer comes on. "Get your money out and put your hands together for Deena White!"

I get a left elbow to the side as I see a roll of ones materialize from Dan's right pants pocket. Glaring at my partner, he just wiggles his eyebrows before peeling off a few of the ones to stuff in my hand. "Go," he has to lean in and shout over the rap being blared over the PA system.

I shake my head at him and give the money back. His brow furrows and he leans in, lips brushing my ear as he asks, "She's cute and has a nice rack. GO!"

I shake my head. "They're fake. So no. And, just because I'm gay doesn't mean I'll drool over every pretty face I see."

He shrugs and slides out of the booth. Turning to me he points a finger and declares loud enough to be heard over the music, "We will find you a girl tonight, partner. Mark my words!"

Rolling my eyes, I watch him spin around and take a spot at the foot of the main stage. Sometimes, being out isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

Although…I tilt my head to the side and watch Ms. White work her way across the stage, she isn't bad on the eyes either. Sighing, I take another healthy sip of my drink.

Two other dancers swing their hips out on to the smaller side stages and I sink back against the thick vinyl booth. It feels good to just kick back. We'd been swamped at work. A nice little skirmish between three rival gangs had left four dead and six wounded in set of shootouts. A night may be just what I need.

I watch the girls dance, occasionally, swinging my gaze to Dan. He's enjoying himself as the last song dies down and the girls start collecting their strips of clothing and money from the stage. My partner makes his way back to me where I've finished off my first and second drink.

"I've ordered another round," I tell a glistening Dan. "You up there dancing too?" I rib him.

His grin's maniacal as he shakes his head. "Nah, Deena's chest liked my pretty face." He shrugs. "Who'm I to deny that type of attention."

Laughing I look around at some of the other men's reflections of their faces pictured in the mirror lined walls sitting around the stages. I can't really disagree. Dan's pretty, really pretty for a guy and he is, hands down, one of the best looking men here tonight.

I keep my mouth shut, though. His ego's big enough for three of him. The waitress brings by our second round of cocktails just as the man in the booth behind the bar announces a Veronica Sawyer to the stage. The first strum of the guitar should be recognizable to anyone that's a fan of rock and roll. Ted Nugent's voice carries over the system and Yank Me, Crank Me's always brought a smile to my face.

The woman that…she struts on stage and I sit up straighter. I start with the four inch heels she has strapped to her feet, up smooth, shiny calves and strong lean muscled thighs. The swell of her hips is wrapped in a sparkly blue micro skirt. Her midriff is slightly covered in a red and white stripped vest. The skin visible is defined well enough to know that she spends a fair amount of time at the gym. Poking through the vest, I can see that her right breast is cupped with the same blue material as the skirt, but there are stars, bright and white covering it as well. The left breast is stripped in red and white. Her girls are pushed up and together, putting her ample cleavage on display, leaving my mouth dry and tacky.

Dan hisses, "If those aren't real, I'm wearing a dress to work."

I shake my head. Not taking that bet. Those are real and…

I lick my lips watching Ms. Sawyer swing her chestnut brown hair around and strut her stuff on stage.

* * *

"Miss, this way," the blue jean, black t-shirt wearing, long haired behemoth directs me behind a black velvet curtain, down a short hall lit only by one wall fixture with a low wattage bulb, past one door and into the only room on the right. The light there is just as dim, the fixture in the ceiling a chandelier controlled by a dimmer switch near the door.

I look to my grinning escort and he says, "The rules are simple, you touch only if they give you permission. If they don't, your hands don't leave the handles of that there chair. If at any time, you do not do what she says, she'll end it and come get me." He's still smiling when he finishes up, "If she comes to get me, fella or not, I'll break as many bones as I can before you pass out and dump you in the alley."

My right eyebrow goes up at the flippant delivery of a threat I'm sure he's made good on on more than one occasion. I hold my hands up, palms exposed to shoulder level and say, "I will do what I'm told, uh," I lick my lips and stammering, "scouts…well, not scouts, 'cause I wasn't one. Me and my brothers were at the Y a lot though."

The man points a finger at me, merriment dancing in pale blue eyes, "I'll take you at your word this time."

"I'd be appreciative," I say honestly. I'm not sure if I could take him down in a fair fight, but I know I could if I had to fight dirty. I just don't want to fight at all and will do exactly what I'm told, when I'm told.

He pretends to touch the brim of a hat he doesn't wear and shuts the door. Pulling in a deep breath, I spin on my left heel and let it out to take in the room I'm in. The only part of the area that isn't mirrored is the floor. It's black linoleum that's looked to have seen better days. There's a small stereo unit in the corner and my chair, which I eye. It's an aluminum folding chair with handles mounted on the sides.

I rub my palms flat on my thigh covered blue jeans and take a seat. The alcohol has had its desired effect. I'm not drunk, just pleasantly mellow and warm. Dan's kept me on the edge for most of the night, but before I came back here, we slammed a double of tequila that's just making itself known. If I were feeling any different, I may have just decked him for sending me back here for a private showing.

I hear footsteps right outside the door and look at the handle turn and a brunette head poke through. Her smile is flirtatious and fun. She's relaxed as the rest of her body slips through the narrow crack that she made. Her outfit's changed. Instead of the Stars and Stripes, she's covered this time in a black charmeuse robe that stops mid-thigh. Her stockings are a wide fishnet whose tops disappear under the bottom of her robe. Her long, toned legs are on full display. Her feet are covered in impossibly high heels with a thick platform sole.

My mouth goes gummy as I work my way back up her lithe form. I meet warm brown eyes and the wink she gives me knocks the breath back into my lungs. I gulp in a lungful of air, my hands gripping my thighs.

Her head tilts left. Her tone is honey and silk when she finally speaks, "I normally don't give private dances. Your boyfriend seemed to think I was worth the five bills he put down."

"Friend. He is. Not uhm…" I stammer wishing my brain would work properly so I didn't sound like a moron or like the idiot child of Yoda. I lick my lips and try again, "Dan, his name's Dan and he's only a friend." I point to myself and amend, "I'm gay, he's not a girl and uh, really not my type."

Her sculpted left eyebrow arcs and disappears under her long bangs. "Well," she clucks, her smile growing, "then it was awfully sweet of him, don't you agree, sug?"

I nod. I'm back to being a speechless and cottoned mouth mess.

"I don't usually get women either." She winks at me and I flush, burning hot as the blood in my body rushes to the surface. She giggles a girly sound, sauntering up to me, the tip of her finger slides along my jaw and she purrs, "You seem to be the sweetest creature though. I think I may just enjoy this."

"You don't…uh…usually?" I ask wondering why I can still feel the trail of her finger long after it's been withdrawn.

Looking me over, she decides on an answer. "If I were to tell you the truth, promise to keep it between us?"

I nod.

"The dancing, I love. The attention is just as amazing and the money is good, real good." She turns her back to me and from somewhere on her person, produces a small iPod shuffle. "I price my private sessions higher than most to discourage them." She turns the machine on and the first few bars of Lenny Kravitz's Fly Away fill our space. She spins to me and starts to undo the sash tying the robe together.

Stepping between my parted knees, her fingers clear the knot and drop the sash. I stop the robe from falling open and quickly tie the sash in a lose knot. Sweat beads along my forehead and I feel a line of it snake down my neck and continue along my spine. "You shouldn't then," I manage to squeak out and look up at her through my bangs.

Her heads bowed, looking down at me, a smile playing at the corner of her amazingly delectable lips.

I continue, trying my best not to offend her, "Not that I…it's just that if you don't want, then, I'm okay with…I mean, it's okay."

The corner of her eyes crinkle with the smile she gives me and she shakes her head. "No, I think I may just really enjoy this." Her fingertip taps the tip of my nose and then presses it down. "So, why don't you tell me what the special occasion is?"

I break eye contact and stare at her covered stomach. "My birthday. Dan thought I needed to…uhm…celebrate." I look back up as she moves from between my knees.

Pushing them together, she straddles my thighs and lowers herself down onto my lap. My hands find purchase on the supports for the back of the chair and her hands come to rest on my shoulders. "Hmm, well, happy birthday…" she trails off and looks to me expectantly.

"Uh, Nora," I get out quickly and then smirk. "I'd like to compliment you though, on your name, Ms. Sawyer."

Her eyebrows dance and her eyes, a deep brown with impossibly golden flecks, shine with merriment. "Well, Heather just seemed so overdone."

I can't help but laugh. "Of course it would."

Her hips start to undulate against me as another Kravitz song picks up, this one slower in tempo, sweet and melodic. She moves just as fluidly as she did on stage. More so, now, I think. "I think I'll enjoy being part of the celebration," she husks leaning into me, her nose brushing through my hair and sliding up the heated skin of my neck. I tilt my head to give her better access and feel her hands at my waist.

My eyes flutter close as her silk covered breasts press against my own. "Hey," she says gently, "you can look, you know." I open my eyes and look at her bare, except for the straps of her bra, shoulders. I make a tactical mistake and let my eyes travel south.

The rest of her is covered in a dark purple and black lace number. The tops of her breasts are sculpted to voluptuous globes and I swallow audibly. Looking past her chest, her midriff is bare. Her hips are covered by a matching garter and panty set; the strips for the garter strain down her muscular thighs and clip to the tops of the fishnet thigh highs.

I look back up as she leans down and brushes her lips along my chin and up my jaw. "Relax, sug, enjoy this. I know I am." Before her body starts to undulate in earnest, she says, "My Christian name is Nikki, by the way."

Oh, sweet, baby Jesus in a Christmas manger.


	2. The Crooks, the Felons, and the Rest

Hello All!

This is a longish author's note, but don't stop reading yet - In fact if you only read the author's note I'm okay with that. So to be quick, there was this pilot, Nikki & Nora, that only saw the light of day due to some sneaky person at Warner Bros. that leaked it. This unaired pilot's spawned a fairly decent following, and some amazing fanfic (docwho, pprbkwrtr, inspectorboxer, silk, to name a few) and these two ladies have been in my head since I first saw the episode that was ahead of it's time.

Now, as to why I'm taking you down a trip to Gushland over Nikki & Nora, well besides the near half million words that I've written for them, is that they are rebooting the show: The N&N Files (insert appropriately girly squeal of fangirlishness for days on end here).

BUT

They need some help, so they're soliciting donations...yinz know what I'm asking, and if I could, I'd queue up the Sarah McLauchlin-esque ASPCA sympathy to tug on the heart-strings, but really, if you've read any of what I've written for these amazing, totally not mine, characters, and enjoyed it or were entertained by it or moved by it, then I'm begging, give what you can donate at** indiegogo dot com / projects/the-n-n-files?c=gallerylauchlin** (fill in the dots).

In the interim, here's the start of an A.U. featuring these ladies...remember they're not mine...the fact that Nancylee Myatt hasn't hunted me down and taken away my computer is a testament to her awesomeness...so uh, help, I mentioned the begging and the fangirly squeal of squealy joy, and the begging, pretty sure I mentioned that, and help some ladies out...or help me out so I can see the characters come to life on the screen again.

I'm done rambling now...or begging, yep definitely begging...please and thank you!

* * *

**Title:** Near Life Experience

**Disclaimer:** Not my characters – except for one or two. The rest of the ladies and gentleman contained herein belong to entities with a higher pay grade. Thanks for allowing li'l ole me to play; I promise to return them as I found them…just like the tools I borrowed from dad when I was a kid. Also, this is unbeta'd so…mistakes are really all me. Sorry about that.  
**Fandom:** Nikki & Nora  
**Pairing:** Nikki/Nora  
**Rating:** PG-13-ish, there are some adult concepts and themes, but nothing too over the top.

**Summary:** Nikki's not really "Nikki" and Nora's sings a different tune.

**A/N:** I think I forgot to mention this, but I know people that read what I write are used to weekly updates on stories, this story is going to be updated every other week. Sorry about that, but I needed the slack to get the story together. Enjoy this chapter and see you people in two weeks. =0D

**Ch. 2 – The Crooks, the Felons and the Rest**

Stripping the warm cocoon of soft down and cotton away, I roll out of bed, planting my bare feet on the cold hard wood floor. I rock forward and stand, stretching my interlaced fingers above me towards the vaulted ceiling of my bedroom. Muscles tense from sleep and more than likely too little water intake during work and the drinks afterwards protest against my forced movement. They burn, the fire they produce licks its way up my body until I bend from the waist and touch my toes.

My body lets loose a series of pops, cracks and snaps as I right myself and reach for my purse on the floor by my nightstand. The pack of cigarettes pokes up from the opening. I snatch them and the lighter up then make my way towards the kitchen to start a fresh pot of coffee. I bypass the living room and look at the clock above the mantle.

Two in the afternoon. Not bad considering I went to bed around eight this morning. Not something I normally do, but shaking that blonde from last night proved more difficult that I thought. She was there with her friend until the place shut down. I was half tempted to give her my number, but…

My lack of courage concerning her makes me pull a cigarette from the half-empty pack and tuck the filtered end between my lips. Lighting it up as I enter the kitchen, the lighter and pack is tossed on my kitchen counter and I pull the smoke into my lungs, relishing the feel of the first wash of nicotine entering my bloodstream.

Prepping the coffee maker, I wait patiently while the carafe fills, flicking the ash from the burning cancer stick into the kitchen sink. My head's still fuzzy from sleep, but it doesn't prevent me from taking stock. Thirty years old, living in a less than stellar neighborhood, feeding two, maybe three if you count my shoes, addictions. I snicker, a little bitterer than what I'd like after a pretty lucrative night at Rusty's.

If my daddy could see me now…

I suck on the last bit of cigarette before letting it drop in to a cold cup of two day old coffee in the sink.

I'm sure he'd have a few choice words to give his one and only child. I know my mama's probably rolling over in her grave as she looks down on her little angel from on high. She should have known when I put away the cotillion gowns in favor of miniskirts, thigh highs and halter tops. It was mostly by choice, but a necessity best not dwelled on so early in the day. As it stands, it's probably best she died before she found out her princess shakes her ass for singles slipped between skintight lace.

Pulling a coffee cup from the cupboard above the counter, I fill it up with the strong, black brew and take a healthy sip. The warmth chases away the last remaining cobwebs of sleep. I should get a move on, I have a meeting and work to get to. Topping off my cup, I head back towards my room, hearing the distinct chirp of my laptop's alert to new mail.

Padding my way over to the small work station I have set up, I hit the down arrow on the keyboard to wake the screen up. I scroll down the list of the new messages. The usual offenders are sitting there. I key through a quick response from my boss, letting him know everything's good then direct my attention to the soft beep of my phone.

The electronic leashes I'm subjected to regularly should annoy me, but I'd bet a nights tips that it's actually Darius confirming our meeting. I slide the icon on the touchscreen right and unlock the device. Sure enough Darius' message is the first on the screen, 'We still on?'

I use my right index finger to reply with 'Y' and hit send. I need to get a move on and set my half empty cup next to my phone to hit the shower. Generally, I take my time. The hot water messages some of the stiffer parts of my legs and back away, but I need to get a move on. Would hate to keep my boy waiting.

So this afternoon, I go through my routine and am out of the shower quickly, wrapping my hair in one of the towels hanging on the back of my door. Getting ready for work takes less time than one would imagine. I slip on a blue sports bra and matching boy shorts before tugging on cut off jean shorts and a fitted t-shirt. Most of my prep work is done at club. No sense in getting all done up before I need to. I unwrap the towel, run a brush through damp hair and toss it in a ponytail.

I collect my phone, dump it into my purse and take my empty coffee cup to the kitchen sink. The green, canvas gym bag I take with me to work is sitting where I left it this morning, next to the couch. My Vera Wang plum, peep toe flats are there too. I slip those and my sunglasses on and head towards the car port.

My Evo sits in her assigned parking space. All shiny, pretty and black, she gleams under the afternoon sun. I fish the keys from my purse, hit the fob to disarm and unlock her. My purse and bag go on the passenger seat as I slip inside the warmed interior. The key slides into the ignition and I turn her over, letting the engine rev a second before I pop the break, depress the clutch and put her in reverse.

The car grumbles backing up and as I shift to first, she starts to purr. Hanging a right out of my little apartment complex, I head towards Washington Park for my rendezvous with Darius. The streets I amble down are lined with mostly single family homes that have seen far better days than today. Most are in bad need of some paint and TLC. I'm sure with some patience and a little bit extra money the homes could be fixed.

Of course, that's the sticking point. When the choices are food and clothing for you and your family or paint for the house, the latter will lose every time. I've been in New Orleans just shy of eight of months. Spent a good bit of time in St. Louis, six months, less a week or two, in Detroit and nearly a year in Pittsburgh, all of the cities had their fair share of economically depressed neighborhoods. Detroit chief among them, but New Orleans, for some reason, has upset me the most.

The city and surrounding areas have so much history. The people, by and large, are friendly enough…affecting a small southern twang to your voice will get you by better of course. There's a charm and air here that leaves me feeling like I may just be able to put some stakes in the ground.

I stop at the intersection of Burgundy and Marigny and hang a left. The one hang up I have with this city is the one-way streets. It took some time getting used to. Down Marigny, I swing a right on to Royal for a block and a half to pull up and park behind a rusted out green pickup.

I make sure the car's alarm is engaged before hiking my purse higher on my shoulder and head towards my usual spot. There are a few things in my life that've been consistent over the past four years, my car, dance and Darius. A rudder in the most turbulent of storms, I was and have been thankful of our paths crossing in Miami when they did. The idea that we have been on a similar journey since then is the one true comfort I've afforded myself since the initial move to Pennsylvania.

And just as consistent as always, he's sitting in our usual spot, right under a tall oak tree. His feet are planted on the picnic bench, his elbows rest on his knees as he leans over and watches me approach. I add a little extra sway to my hips to tease him. His dark brown skin hides most any embarrassment he may feel when I tease him.

Instead, he tilts his head and licks his lips. His nose ring reflects some of the afternoon sun and his braids are pulled back into a high ponytail that swishes against the nape of his neck as he moves. His outfit is standard, baggy pants, baggy layers of shirts. Today it's black jeans, a lime green and orange button up over a black t-shirt. The shoes, God love that man and his shoes, he's nearly as bad as me, are a pair of Nike Jordan Spizikes that are the same colors as the rest of his clothes. He matches so well and I love him for it.

"Well if you aren't just as pretty as a picture," I coo during my approach. "I feel a tad underdressed for our little gathering today."

"Pshaw, chickadee, you could come see me in a potato sack and still look betta." He wiggles his eyebrows, the ring above his right eye jingles softly due to the charm I put on it when he first got it done. His eyes rake up my body and then back down. "You do be lookin' a little skinnier than last week though. You good?"

I shrug as I set my oversized Chloe shoulder bag on top of the table next to him. "Been fine. I'm only working three days a week right now, so…"

"Yeah, but still," he chides.

I slip on top of the table next to him and look behind his back. A sack of food and two drinks are behind him. I shake my head and ask, "You feedin' me today, too?"

He just nods his head. "I be feedin' you a couple things today." He smiles and bumps my shoulder. A small waxed paper packet appears in the palm of his left hand, he slips it to me by tucking it down the front of my shirt. The 'care package' sits warm and heavy on top of my left breast. I take a minute to remember to put it somewhere safer before work.

"Thank you kind, gentleman," I purr at him and rest my head on his shoulder. I feel his cheek come to rest on top of my head as we look out over the quiet park.

"Someone's gotta take care of you," he says quietly.

I snicker and retort, "You're cut this week's in my purse."

I feel his lips press my hair down and he mutters, "You do me proud, boo."

* * *

I toy with the bourbon Mike poured for me, using the tip of a small red straw to swirl the ice around in the rock glass. The bar is in full swing. Assessing the large crowd in the mirror behind the bar, I figure it's a worthwhile night. Every time there's movement at the entrance, I half expect it to be her, Nora. It's been awhile since anyone's caught my eye the way she did. Shy and tongue tied one second then bold and smooth the next. A girl could get use to that kind of sweetness.

I shake my head to rid that type of foolishness from my mind. Better to focus on the job and then things I can't have. My first dance tonight pulled a good take. I may need to pull an extra job tonight if I don't make enough for Darius' books, but that shouldn't be too bad. I'm sure there's someone here tonight that is willing to pay my rates.

I snicker at the thought.

I look back down at my drink before I feel someone slip on to the stool next to me. Briefly, I close my eyes and let my features relax. I swivel slightly to face the person and open my eyes, offering a warm smile in greeting. The man next to me smiles a bit wider, charming I'm sure for most people. The cheap suit he has on does endear me to him. The charcoal gray pinstripe is of questionable blend and cut. While I'm not a snob when it comes to other people's attire, I do appreciate a bit of effort.

The man in front of me looks to have pulled the suit from a discount clothing store rack and did little to make alterations to fit is stocky frame. He's not fat, trim from what I can tell, but his shoulders are expansive and his angular jaw line is pronounced by the thin line of beard along its length. His nose was broken once, that much is told by the bump in the bridge. His brown eyes are a tilting towards buzzed.

"Hi," he starts off and I bat my lashes. I've learned to be nice to the patrons. It took a little getting used to, but I've learned it's impolite to bite the hand that feeds. "I saw your dance earlier," he bobs his head, "hot."

"Well, thank you," I say sweetly, flicking my hair back with a swipe of my wrist. I look down at his shoes, mama always said if you wanted to truly gauge a person, look at their shoes. His are uncared for, scuffed and cheap. You can get away with cheap footwear if you care for it. One of the sweetest men I ever met only bought his shoes from Payless, but he cared for them, kept them cleaned and polished. I cannot say the same thing for the man in front of me.

"I'm Andrew," he offers and then directs Mike who stopped in front of us, "Another drink for the lady, Daquri and a vodka and cranberry for me."

Mike's eyebrow rises as he looks to me and I shrug. "If Mr. Andrew doesn't mind," I say and pat the man's arm, "I'd like a refill of Knob, Mike."

Andrew shrugs and says, "That's fine. I like a woman who can drink." His smile gets a little more leer-like. I remove my hand and push my glass forward for Mike to top off. "So," he starts up again, sipping at the mostly cranberry juice, "do you give private shows?"

"Why of course I do, sweetness." I sip my drink and wait for the usual response.

"What kind?" he asks. I swear I should just have cards made up that give my going rates. His eyes skim the top of my halter, lingering on the swell of cleavage. "I'd like a full show…" he trails off the implication clear.

I suppress the roll of my eyes. Most guys do want the full show, but I was pretty strict with the contract I signed with Geno. I only do topless for private shows and I set my own rates. Normally, in a strip club, you request a girl and the rates are flat for everyone. We make our money in the tips and a percentage of the private dances we give.

Going into this four years ago, I decided that what I could offer and what I was willing to offer were two separate things. Darius manages that piece, has since I've met him. With him behind me, I've been able to negotiate separate terms, depending on the bar that I work. For Rusty's, my hourly rate is seventy-five dollars plus my tips when I dance – no full or half nudity. I've learned pasties can be a girl's best friend next to diamonds and Jimmy Choos.

"Well," I lean into the man and run a short, French-tipped nail up his arm, "if you want a private show it's a flat two-fifty, lap dance only. Topless will add another two. If you want a full, unobstructed view, sug, I can give you one for five."

I see the sweat pop and bead along his forehead and upper lip. I know he's not got that kind of money to spend. He licks the sweat away from his upper lip and says, "What about after?"

I pull back and shake my head. "I don't do 'after.'" I say it gently, but firm. He's not the first to ask. He won't be the last.

The change in him is subtle; he sits up a little straighter. "You would for me."

"Sorry, sweetness, but I won't," I tell him immediately. No reason to string him along. "I may strip for a living, but I'm not a whore."

His upper lip curls and he chuckles, "Ain't that the definition of a whore, a bitch who takes her clothes off for a living?" He grabs on to my wrist and gives a tug, "I think maybe you should quit playing hard to get and just come with me."

I wrench my hand free and shake my head. "I think it's time for you to go."

We stand at the same time. I don't take my eyes off Andrew, but I see Mike from over the man's shoulder signal for Geno. Andrew steps into me, pressing our bodies together. His erection presses against my naked thigh and I bite my tongue, trying to maintain my calm.

"I think," a voice from over my shoulder snarls, "the lady said it was time for you to go." I know that voice.

"I think it's time for you to stay out of my business, bitch," Andrew snarls as I see Nora step up to me so that we're shoulder to shoulder for the briefest of moments. I step back and she slips between me and Andrew.

"I think you should learn some manners," Nora retorts as Geno's hand swings back. Before it gains forward momentum, I watch slack jawed as she lashes out. Her right hand shoots up, catches him on the side of head and slams the right side of his face down on the edge of the bar. "When a lady tells you to leave, you do as requested," she hisses on impact.

He yelps just as Geno grabs him by the arms and throws him away from the bar onto the floor. Andrew sputters, spits a few curse words before Geno plants his foot in the man's ass when he tries to stand. The kick sends Andrew forward. He sprawls out a few feet forward from where he landed the first time. He tries again, rising on all fours. Geno repeats the kick.

I laugh. I've seen him do this once before. It's his version of a frog march for unruly patrons.

Andrew just got black listed from Rusty's.

"You okay?" Nora interrupts my entertainment. I look at her, green eyes full of concern and sympathy. Her hand reaches out and gently takes hold of the forearm Andrew clamped down on. It's a little red, but no serious damage. The woman inspects it, her eyes narrowing at the temporary markings.

"I'm fine," I whisper leaning closer to her. "Really. No worse for the wear, ma'am."

Her scowl slowly dissipates as I continue to smile at her and run a hand along her arm. "Thank you, for the rescue."

"I, uh…" her confidence evaporates before me and she licks her lips, stammering, "I, uh, well, you looked, and he seemed like an asshole."

I giggle and offer her the stool that Andrew just vacated.

"I can offer you a drink?" she asks quietly. "You don't have to have alcohol, but a pop or something else…if, you, uhm, if you don't like liquor?"

"I'm okay right now. Thank you, though," I let her off the hook as Mike refills my glass and looks at Nora. She shakes her head and he nods, offering her a small thankful smile.

"I'll let you get back to…" she tries to leave me.

My hand on her tensing thigh stops her words and her attempt to stand. "Stay and chat with me before I go on again?" I ask, titling my head to the side and batting my eyelashes.

She releases her lower lip she was worrying and breaks out into a small, genuine smile. "I'd like that."


	3. Looking Up

Howdy All,

If you've been reading I hope you know about The Nikki & Nora Files indiegogo campaign ( indiegogo - com [slash] projects/the-n-n-files?c=home ) Right now, we're at $37,100 with 6 days left. Help me out here, go raid some couches (yours, friends, family, neighbors), couches needs some love too, some of the cars that would not be considered unlawful to pillage for spare coin dropped at drive-thrus, you know the drill. Any and all help's appreciated and if can't help with $$ spread the word as much as possible.

Thank you,

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**A/N: Not mine.**

* * *

**Ch. 3 – Looking Up**

Pulling up to the station at seven in the morning is never really a good thing.

Too early to be going to work, but it's a little worse when I park my baby, a Sixty-nine El Camino Five-oh-two, mint in all the right ways, in the station's lot and look over to see my phone lit up with 'Mom' on the display.

There's really no type of mental preparation that can be done to help with my mom. So I suck it up and answer the phone, "Hi, mama."

"Oh, good, Nora, I'm glad I caught you. I thought that I'd have gotten your voicemail and was prepared to leave a message." I huff. I'm an idiot. I should have gone with my first instinct. "Anyway, I wanted to talk to you about a few things."

"Is this going to take long?" I ask and slip the key from the ignition and into my pants pocket. "I have a meeting soon." I keep the time reference vague. If it'll help speed things along 'cause she thinks I need to be somewhere good. My first meeting isn't for, a look at the watch on my left wrist, forty minutes.

"Shouldn't take that long, I don't think," she chirps back instantaneously. "I know you said you didn't want to do anything big for your birthday..."

"Mama...," I grumble at her, knowing that it's a lost cause. Any excuse for her to try and get people together is one that she will not pass up.

"Now, Nora, I know you. You let me get away with murder on your thirtieth. I was just thinking that we have a nice family supper. You, your brothers and sister, Daddy," she pauses as I hear clanging in the background. My guess is she's in the kitchen, "I wanted to tell you to invite Georgia, her partner..." she clucks her tongue, "oh, his name's not coming to me..."

"Gauthrie," I supply to her delight.

"Right, thank you, I'll have to remember that. What's his first name?"

"Ryan."

"Yes, invite him. He seemed like such a nice young man at the picnic." I hear the refrigerator open and close as she prattles on, "Also, I invited Lois Hall's daughter, Michelle, you remember her? You and your friend, Kristina, used to play with her when she'd visit her grandparents during the summer."

"Mama," my voice drops in warning. She doesn't need to say any more. When I was a teenager it was near any available boy that she could get her hooks into to come over for supper. When I came out freshman year in college, after the shock and crying over no grandbabies or a big wedding, she started in on the women. The women and PFLAG and GLADD, most times, dragging my poor dad around to the various meetings. A friend's daughter simply translates to 'setup.'

I don't get much else as she talks over me, "Well, Lois got a divorce. Ran into her at the market. She and her daughter have moved down here. I guess Michelle got a nice position with some investment firm or something. Educated and smart." She pauses to take a breath. The reprieve is short lived. "Anyway, I thought it'd be nice. You two know each other and she doesn't really know anybody else. Lois also let it slip that she occasionally plays for your team and she's currently single. Won't hurt if you got a date out of it."

"Oh, my God, mama!" I pinch the bridge of my nose and hang my head. "How many times do I need to tell you..."

"You've told me enough. Now Nora, I know you think it's a setup, but I guess she's one of them...switch hitters?...Well, Lois said she likes both, you know? So I thought that if you and her didn't hit it off, maybe Dan'll get a date instead. I saw her picture. She's a lovely young lady, Nora Eugenia. The least I'll demand from you is hospitality."

I wince at the use of my middle name. I cringe at her tone. I hate that tone. "Fine, but I'm only letting it go because Dan's getting setup here just as much as I am," I concede.

"Now, I expect at least you and Dan to be here at six on Saturday. Call me later today and let me know if Georgia and Ryan will be joining us as well so I know whether or not to put the extra leaf in the dining table to make room. One last thing, what kind of cake do you want me to make?"

"Hmm, uhm, yellow with chocolate icing." It's a sin really. My mother's food is really the best and her cakes will cause fights if there's only one piece left.

"I figured as much. Okay, well, I need to go or I'm going to burn breakfast. You and Daniel stay safe and I love you."

"Love you, too. Bye," I say. I wait for the click on the line to tell me she's disconnected. I drop the phone in my lap, close my eyes and rub my temples. My family is really great. I know that I really have nothing to complain about, not really.

They're just...intense and there's a lot of us. Six in my house, me, Bobby, Kevin, Kira and mom and dad. Then there was the extended bunch. I think at our last get together there were around fifty. That was just the aunts, uncles and cousins. I swear we're like rabbits.

A rap on my window draws my attention and I open my eyes to Dan standing outside my car holding up a bag and a tray of coffee cups. He smiles and wiggles his eyebrows. I grin back. It's mainly due to the breakfast he brought, but if what I think is in the bag, is in fact there, today will be good.

I collect my jacket from the passenger seat and step out of the car. "Morning," I greet as Dan steps back to let me out. I shut and lock the door then turn my full attention to the food.

"Mama D.?" he asks, setting the food on the hood of my El Camino.

"Yeah," I nod and take the offered cup of coffee gratefully. "Thanks. Is that from Dechaux's?"

Dan nods, digging into the bag for my breakfast sandwich. "One bacon, egg, potato sandwich on a strawberry bagel for you." He puts the sandwich in my outstretched palm. The wax paper wrapping is warm and just a little greasy.

"You, partner, are my favorite person," I purr and put my coffee on the hood of the car so I can eat.

"I know," Dan says and opens his own sandwich. His is like mine, but the bread. He likes his on sourdough.

"Also, don't make plans for Saturday. You have to come with me to dinner at my parents. And, we're being set up." I smack my lips as I expose one side of the bagel. The smell wafts up and I close my eyes. I open them and sink my teeth into the sandwich. My eyes flutter shut as I chew. The bacon's perfect, crisp and salty. The eggs are fluffy, with just the right amount of pepper.

If I could get away with it, I'd probably just commit myself to the sandwich Dechaux serves and swear off women...well, most, uhm, Victoria-Nikki, that dancer was...is-I shake my head and swallow my bite of sandwich.

"What?" Dan's question is met with a startled look. I catch him just as a piece of food falls from his lips.

I laugh and tell him, "Your adopted mom is setting us up with the same woman."

He groans and rolls his eyes.

"If I have to suffer, I don't see why you should have to get out of the misery. Mama says she's pretty and works for some investment firm or something." I shrug and take another big bite of my sandwich.

I savor this bite a little more.

Heaven.

Pure, unadulterated, Heaven.

It's going to be a good day.

* * *

"So," Dan whispers out of the side of his mouth, mindful of one Dr. Charlie Issacs and the dictaphone he's been speaking in. The morgue isn't as quiet as it usually is and if Adelai has a hard time hearing him over the chatter behind us, heads'll roll.

I'd prefer it not be mine.

"So, what?" I whisper back from my spot on the other side of the door jam. Our shoulders press together, but we fit in the frame just fine if we stand a certain way.

"What'd you think of Badlani's," he shifts his arms and air quotes, "'encouragement,'" his arms drop before folding back across his chest, "about wrapping this up?"

My tongue rolls across the back of my bottom lip before I answer, "I still don't think it's a suicide." I hold up my hand and tick off the few and admittedly circumstantial reasons, "No history of depression, no medication, she had money..."

"We couldn't afford her apartment if we combined our salaries," Dan interjects.

"Nothing that would indicate personal problems and no note," I finish up.

Dan bobs his head and adds, "I mean if it were me, in that type of situation, I'd leave a note. If you're going to throw yourself off a seventh story balcony, why not let people know why."

"Although," I let the word linger causing Dan to groan.

"You're going to play devil's advocate aren't you?" he groans.

"Well, she also doesn't have much of a paper trail. Jane Dawson...do you know how many hits that pulled in the system? Her D.L. record was clean. Got her license five years ago. What was she doing before then 'cause she doesn't have any expired I.D.'s in the system either?" I wonder quietly. It was one of the major sticking points with the case that we both had.

Jane Dawson didn't appear to exist five years ago.

"Yeah," he agrees and rubs the back of his shaved head. "That bugs me too. Maybe we can get Charlie to look at her a little closer. Dental records would help. See if there's anything else she has physically that we can use to dig a bit deeper."

Nodding, I agree, "Sounds good. I'd like to rerun her prints through A.F.I.S."

"After we leave here, then." He bumps my shoulder and whispers playfully, "So did you see Veronica again?" He wiggles his eyebrows and I shoot him a look out of the corner of my eye. I can't prevent the heating up of my cheeks. Catching on, he teases me a bit more, "You did, you dirty dog."

"I may have stopped by last night," I admit it. I mean I told him I was thinking about it. "Actually got there right in time. Some dipshit was getting handsy. Geno ejected him though."

"Hmm, and what did you do?" he asks, smiling.

I shrug my left shoulder. "Noth..."

"Bullshit," he cuts me off.

"I gently reminded the side of his face what the edge of a bar feels like." I grin and wink at him.

"That's my girl," Dan coos to my annoyance.

"Hey, if ya'll are gonna hang out in the doorway all day, the least you can do is say hello," Charlie chides.

"Sorry," I say immediately.

"We didn't want to interrupt your genius at work," Dan explains as we both push off the edge of the frame and step into the autopsy suite.

"Hmm," he hums and raises an eyebrow, "I think you're just trying to butter me up."

"Maybe," I smile. "We wanted to see if you had a chance to look at Dawson yet?"

He shakes his head as he peels off the bloody gloves he's wearing. "You heard about the car crash that ended up in the river. I've been trying to get that done."

"Ah, right," Dan says.

I vaguely remember hearing about a car losing control and spinning off a bridge. I think it happened two maybe three days ago. Young kids if I recall correctly.

"That's had me busy. I've got two left and a full locker." He shrugs his shoulders. "I can promise a call as soon as I know something more," he promises.

Our Charlie usually does make good on them. "Deal," I readily agree.

"So," Charlie looks to me and wiggles his eyebrows. "I hear Dan took you someplace special."

Wide eyes are directed my partner's way. "You told him?" I snap and backhand Dan in the chest.

"What?" His arms go up to defend himself, swatting away another hit to his shoulder. "We talked the other day and he was asking about doing something."

"I would have gone, but..." Charlie grins widely.

"Oh, did I tell you she met someone?" Dan backs up this time, dodging another hit.

"Really?" the doctor coos.

"Veronica. Dancer. Leggy, busty. Hot," Dan fills in. "She went back last night to see her."

"I'm going to hurt you later, Harney," I threaten and stab a finger at him.

"Ah, how'd it go?" Charlie asks.

"She slammed a guys face into the bar for her." Dan recounts, tossing an arm over my shoulder to squeeze me.

"You were her white knight. Very Nora Delaney of you," Charlie teases me. "So, did you give her your number?"

I draw in a deep breath and shake my head. "Exchanged."

Twin hoots echo around the room. I can't help the blush. I mean I talk to these two guys about pretty much everything. May as well be honest about this.

"I swear, Nora," Dan chuckles and shakes his head. "What is it with you?"

I shrug.

"You'd think with as many numbers as she collects, she'd date a bit more," Charlie agrees with my partner.

"Hey, now..." I stop talking as my phone rings halting the conversation. I reach down on my waist and unclip the device to look at the screen. I can't help the grin as I answer and spin on my heel to take the call out in the hall. "Hello."

"Good afternoon, Ms. Nora," Nikki purrs into my ear.

"Hi," I chirp back. "How are you?"

"Hmm, I'm good," she answers and I prop myself just outside the door against the left wall. "I wanted to thank you again for last night. Actually, I wanted to do it more properly. Perhaps with dinner and some drinks if you're free tonight?"

"I think I can manage that," I say without thought to what, if anything, I have scheduled for tonight. I'll cancel. "You off tonight?"

"I am indeed. I usually only work three days a week. So, tonight then? I'd offer to cook, but you really don't want me anywhere near a kitchen unless it's for a bowl of cereal or a cup of coffee," she says.

Laughing, I agree, "Tonight would be great. I'll make sure to get out of work on time. What time and where should I meet you?" I ask.

"Well, how about seven and I'll text you the rest of details. I'll recommend comfortable clothes. I promise not to take you anywhere too fancy tonight."

"It's a date then," I gush and smack my forehead with the palm of my hand.

"Indeed it is, my dear, indeed it is. I'll let you get back to work then. I have some planning to do." I hear her rustle around some paperwork as she talks and I wonder what she's doing.

"I look forward to it," I admit. "See you later, Nikki."

"Later, Nora," she purrs and disconnects.

I press my forehead against the cool wall and inhale. The smell of antiseptic brings my mind back to focus. I have some work to do before I can bow out today. I clip the phone back on to my belt and prepare myself to face Dan and Charlie.

I spin around and see them both with matching grins standing in the doorway. "How much of that did you two hear?"

They waggle their eyebrows and Dan says, "Let's go, partner. We need to make sure you're home with enough time to get ready. Although, who's Nikki?"

"Veronica's real name," I say with a grin.

"Never keep a lady waiting," Charlie sing songs, "well, at least that's what my mama used to say."

I groan and roll my eyes. The next few hours are going to be torture.


	4. Night Is My Friend

Hello All!

Have you been here:** indiegogo dot com / projects/the-n-n-files?c=home (fill in the dots)** - have you donated? if you haven't donated, have you spread the word?

While the original goal has been reached, they are asking to go above and beyond that, that helps them, gives us more content and maybe just maybe get's Christina Cox a stunt monkey, but those are rumors, and I think Nancylee is trying to kibosh the monkey-speak. So, if you haven't donated, please, pretty please? Of if you can't or you have and can't anymore, then spread the word, get people to the site, let them check out the content, blackmail them into donating...you know, whatever it takes. =0D

That's all.

Oh, and THANK YOU!

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**Night Is My Friend**

Looking around the bathroom, I realize that I really should have some type of clock in here. Given that I'm always running a few minutes behind…

I'll have to think about that—right now, I need to make sure that I look decent enough for my date. I manage a sardonic half-grin at the thought. It's not like I didn't try going on dates when I first started doing this. None of them ended particularly well. The ones that didn't know that I worked in a strip club were good up until they found out that I did. I became more property than person afterwards.

Those ended quickly.

The other, I tilt my head in thought, two, my eyes squint, no, three that knew before the date were all good until after we had sex. After that it became more of the same, 'but you're mine and you can't do this.'

Well, all but one, Jessica was the sweetest. I just couldn't stick around to figure out where things were headed with her.

Sighing, I do a check in the full length mirror on the back. Shoes, Charlotte Olympia rainbow pumps, really do seal the deal on the outfit, if I say so myself. Fun, sexy and Nora seemed out and proud so I hope she can appreciate them. My favorite pair of Seven for All Mankind skinny jeans, fit just like they are the supposed, snug and low on my hips. The raspberry Trina Turk halter top is a nice color and all I'll need is my Ella Moss jacket to complete the outfit.

My make-up is good, not too much; I really don't like wearing a lot of it unless I'm working.

My hair…

It's a different story. I turn back to the bathroom counter and spray a little more mousse into my hand. Rubbing it through my hair in hopes of giving it a little more body tonight, I hear the doorbell chime.

Shit.

I'm late or she's early. I drop my hands from hair, rinse them quickly and dry them on the damp towel leftover from my shower. One last mirror check causes me to roll my eyes. Guess I'll just have to live with my hair tonight. I call out from my bedroom, "One second!" as I rush from the bathroom, to the bedroom for my jacket on the bed and then to the kitchen counter for my purse.

Slinging it over my shoulder, I undo the chain on the door and manage a beaming smile at the sight of Nora standing there with her hands stuffed in her jeans' pockets. Her outfit is cute, something I can tell she's very comfortable in. The tight, faded black of her t-shirt is nearly brown in color and the blue jeans are worn in all the right places. The shoes are a well-cared for pair of Chucks.

I laugh a little and think that this outfit's been with her since before college. That or a variation of such. I cover up the laugh and greet her, "Hi."

"Running late?" she asks by way of a greeting. The smirk threatening the corner of her mouth wins after a brief struggle and then blossoms into a full, playful grin.

"Absolutely not," I reply. "You are just early." Leaning against the frame of the open door, I watch the brief shock and my playful accusation register.

"My mistake then," she says and offers her arm for me to take. "So, what exactly are we doing tonight?" she asks as I snake my arm through her offered one. I lead us down the short hallway of my apartment building, down the outside walkway and stop in front of the building trying to figure out which one is her car.

I would have driven us around tonight, but Darius needed the car. He refuses to buy a car every time we move. It's not like we have to, he just thinks we do. I just scrub the VIN from any system it might be in and have the plates changed. Only once have needed to give her a fresh coat of paint.

She pulls me towards an old muscle car, an El Camino. If memory serves right, it's a Sixty-eight or nine. "Thank you for picking me up tonight. I'd have just met you, but..."

Nora stops me and says, "Hey, you said your friend needed the car. I don't mind." Her words are genuine and God help me because a small flurry of butterflies erupt in my belly. She unlocks, holds the passenger door open for me and waits for me to secure my seat belt before closing it. I watch as she jogs around the front of the car and I lean over to unlock her side.

I need to be cautious. It's not like people in my line of work get the fairytale ending. There are only a few ways my occupation allows for outcome: death, addiction or old, used and too much of a shell to be good to anyone. I understood that when I started this.

I shake off the thoughts. I'm here to have fun and hopefully show Nora a good time. There's no harm in that and I will take pleasure where I can.

"Thank you," she says as she slides on to the thick leather of the seat.

"My pleasure," I purr and run a hand up her arm. I feel the shiver run the length of muscle under my touch. She turns the car over and I direct, "Take the Ten towards Mid-town and exit South Carrollton. Hang a left off the highway."

She squints at me, nose slightly scrunched and asks, "Towards Mid-town? If you're gonna go to..."

"Leonidas. There's a club there that I thought we'd both enjoy," I tell her, hoping that she likes blues music.

She hums her approval, but doesn't take my direction. Before I can question her, she explains, "Easier to take the surface streets, if you know how to get around." Nora glances over and offers me a wink. "I've lived here my whole life. I can get you across town quicker than most in midday traffic."

"I'll have to remember that," I say as I shift and twist so that I'm facing her while she's driving.

"As a non-native, where are you from?" she asks signaling left to cut across town.

I shrug to buy myself a little bit of time. There's an art to lying. You can be vague, which will serve its purpose if the time is right; the trick with being vague is to give the recipient enough information so they feel like they've gotten an answer when in all actuality they know no more than what they did before they asked the question. Then there's the full lie; the information is completely false and more often than not, will get you into hot water.

In doing what I do, I've learned the best lie is one that's holds an element of truth. It helps keep the lies cohesive enough that you can either talk your way out of a screw up or that you keep them straight enough that you can't screw up. With Nora, I opt for mostly the truth, "Around, I've spent some time the last few years moving around."

"And the state lucky enough to be on your birth certificate?" she asks smiling, pressing, but not.

"Florida, for those inquiring minds in the car." I grin and rest my head in my upturned palm.

"Lucky Florida," she flirts.

"Hmmm, I don't know about that, sug. The more I see of Louisiana...well, it may just be the luckiest state of all." The blonde across from me blushes at the comment. The conversation lapses into the sounds of the traffic outside and the quiet melody playing from the radio.

While she seems content to drive through light traffic, I study her. Growing up, mama used to point out all sorts of interesting things you could learn by just observing. The way a person wears their clothes, not necessarily the type of clothing were always indicators. She would spend time pointing out the people that were dressed nicely and tell me that just because they look a certain way doesn't mean they are.

She said that more than anything it was how a person carried themselves and not how they dressed that would always give you the information you needed. Over the years, I am a believer in her words, and as I watch Nora, there are the usual tells. From my observation, I'd wager a month's pay that she's not an only child, probably from a working class background, and she doesn't do the work on her car herself. Her hands are too clean for it. While her arms and hands are strong, the muscles underneath the supple skin ripple as she moves; they are not the hands of a mechanic.

One thing I'm having a hard time with is her ability to be so bold with me and then as soon as I turn the tables, she's about as bad as a blushing virgin on prom night. That dichotomy's intriguing and if I'm honest, endearing and a bit of a turn on.

I think we'll have fun tonight and at the very least, keeping a count of how many times I can get her to blush will be entertaining. Eventually, I turn my attention to the road in front of us and realize that Nora's made short work of getting us to Carrollton. I direct her, "Take a left and go down..." I pause trying to remember how many blocks down it is.

"What's the name of the place?" she asks, clearly amused by my floundering.

"Carrollton Station," I answer as I finally orient myself. "Actually, it should be about three blocks down on the left."

Bobbing her head, she says, "I know it. I was there once to see my brother perform."

So she has a brother. I want to question her a little more, but the club is coming up, so I tell her, "There's some decent parking around back. Why don't we head in before I use my feminine wiles to find out more about this brother."

"Feminine wiles, eh?" she pokes fun and I just smile and bat my lashes.

"Oh," I purr and lean towards her as she slides her car in to a parking space, "I'll get you to talk, sug."

Where I expect her to back down, she doesn't. For the briefest of moments as she leans into me, I expect to feel her lips on mine. Instead, right before they meet, she slips away and whispers in my ear, "Being you is enough."

* * *

She's been doing her best, I'll give her that. We got into the club, ordered drinks as we settled at a table, and she's even managed to take me for a spin on the dance floor before our dinner arrived. "Don't think I don't know what you're doing," I inform her as I sip at my Cuba Libre.

Her brow knits together and she frowns. "What am I doing?"

"Tell me more about this brother." I prop my elbows on the table, lace my fingers together and rest my chin on them. For good measure, I cross my legs and kick my foot out.

The action earns me a light, airy laugh. "Fine, fine. Bobby, he's the youngest of the Delaney siblings, he plays guitar and trumpet for various bands and groups. Pretty much if it pays, he'll play." Her grin spreads as she continues, retelling a story, "In fact, last year, my mom got him signed up to play for some event. Told him that it was for the L.G.C.C., but if he did it, she'd give him fifty bucks. Bobby thought it was decent for three hours of his time so agreed. Little did he know that he'd be auctioned off for a date afterwards." Nora snickers.

"What's the L.G.C.C.?" I wonder.

"The Lesbian and Gay Community Center. Bobby's a supporter, but not family," she supplies. "Kev and Kira still won't let him live it down. Last time we went to pride, Dad bought him a t-shirt with a rainbow bar code with the word 'certified' under."

"So there's more than you two?" I press her.

"Four, actually. Never a dull moment growing up." She takes a sip of her own drink, a whiskey neat, and grins. "You?"

"Only child. So tell me about them. I always thought having a brother or sister would be fun," I lie. Truthfully, I was quite happy being an only child. Spoilt to no end and no need to worry about looking out for anyone else. Just me, myself and I, thank you very much.

"Well, I'm the oldest, then there's the twins, Kevin and Kira, and Robert or Bobby. And trust me, having younger brothers and a sister is not all it's cracked up to be."

"And what do they do?" Leaning back in my chair, I fold my hands in my lap and look over Nora's shoulder to see the next band start to set up. Food and then another dance.

"Well, My dad, Kira and me work for the city, Bobby's the musician and Kevin followed in my mother's footsteps." her right shoulder gives a little half shrug.

"Mom?"

"Teacher, high school child development. Kevin teaches history though," she answers promptly and looks behind her. She turns back around just as the phone in my right jacket pocket starts ringing.

Sheepishly, I hold up a finger while I answer the phone, "Hello?" Nora smiles at me and motions towards the bathrooms.

Nodding at her, I hear Geno say, "Nikki, it's Geno. You got a minute?"

"For you, only a minute. I'm on a date," I say.

This stops him and prompts the inevitable, "With who?"

"Tell me why you called first and then I _might _share who I'm with." I lean back in my chair and tuck my arm under the one that's holding the phone to my ear.

He growls, "Look, you know how I feel about..."

"And I didn't say they were, but if they were a customer, you and I both know that policy's in place due to some of the less than savory folks passing through our door."

"A customer's a customer's, Nikki," he tuts.

"Yes, but the rule's in place to keep some of our girls away from Guest Relations. Besides, Geno, you actually like her."

"Her?" he asks confused right before I hear the realization and his next question, "The blonde, the one that popped that piss-ant?"

"That would be her. Geno, she's not looking for a free blow job, okay? We're here on a legitimate date that I'm having fun at, so what do you need because she's not going to spend all night in the bathroom."

"I'm not sure I like this, but if you think..."

"I do," I interrupt him.

"Fine, but if she tries some dumb shit, woman or not..."

"I know, you don't need that kind hassle. We all learned our lesson with Kathy," I say trying to stop the rant. On some level, I'd like to try and feel bad for the woman, but...well, sometimes you get what you give.

"Right," he coughs. "Look I was callin' 'cause I know you're off till Saturday, but we got a coupla V.I.P.'s coming in tomorrow and the next night. I want to put you and Beth on them. Keep 'em happy, flirt, provide a show or two."

"From out of town?" I ask.

"D.C. friends of a friend of Rusty. He called to see if I could set something up. We both don't want any one that'll offer personal services so you and Beth are my go-to for this," he explains.

"Names?"

"Don't have them yet, but I'll let you know when I do. They fly in tomorrow and will be here around nine at night. You and Beth do your best. If these guys get the wrong idea and ask for more than what you aren't willing to give..."

"I'll let you or Mike know," I appease him.

"Good. I'll see you tomorrow?" he clarifies. It's not as if I've said yes, but he should know I won't.

"Tomorrow. Now, I need to go. Nora's coming back," I say and hang up the phone to an echo of goodbye from my boss.

"Everything okay?" she asks sitting down as I slip my phone back into my right pocket.

I look up and smile at her. "Yes, that was work. They need me tomorrow and Friday as well as my regular shifts for the weekend."

"What is your work schedule, usu-do you have a regular work schedule, I guess is the better question?" she asks quietly.

"I give them a schedule every two weeks," I tell her. "The night you and your..."

"Dan," she supplies.

"Your Dan...that sounds awfully strange," I tease, leaning forward and running a hand up her arm.

She licks her lips and offers me a bit more, "He's the honorary Delaney. Like a third brother really."

"Well, you and your Dan came was the start of a three day work week. I don't usually work much more than that." I tug at a ring on her right hand to twirl and play with.

She bobs her head.

"So, your birthday, did you do anything else? Family party?" I wonder. She seems to be close with her family and I hardly think that a night in a strip club would be something they'd discuss over dinner.

"Saturday evening. My mom's having supper. Fact is I feel kind of bad." She pulls her hand away and I perk up.

"Bad, why?" I have to ask.

"Mama's good about a few things, meddling and cooking. She'll combine the two on almost all occasions if she can." She looks at me, her green eyes traveling north and south as she looks at me. "She invited a friend's daughter, a girl I used to know when I was in middle school."

"Oh," I manage as the implications become clearer. That piece of news sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. It's not as if I have a right to be upset or to feel territorial. Nora's a free and beautiful woman. Quickly, I shake it off and offer her a sympathetic smile. "You call me if she turns out to be hideous."

She shrugs off the joke and says, "I'm sure it'll be okay. I think I'd..." Nora trails off, shaking her head. "I'm sure it'll be fine." Her smile's tight and the shift is subtle, but apparent.

For a second, it almost seemed like she was going to...

I let that thought die. We've only just met—our first evening of which we spent with me in little to no clothing. I know exactly what type of girl I am, being brought home to the parents for a family birthday is definitely not one of them...at least not now.


	5. She Could Care Less

F U C K, Y E S !

and if you didn't know what this is about well, then, look at chapter one or my profile and figure it out. Words will do little to express how happy I am. It's been a crap couple of months. This makes up for a lot it.

If you donated, thank you. If you spread word, thank you. If you didn't know who Nikki and Nora were before the campaign and now you do...I can't tell you how much of a treat you're in for...how much we're all in for. Thank you!

* * *

**Ch. 5 – She Could Care Less**

Every major muscle group in my legs burns.

The sound of sneakers slapping against concrete develops a rhythm. At least it does when Dan drags me out to go running with him.

A little known fact—I hate running. It's great exercise and all, but I hate it.

This morning reinforces that fact as he pushes me along inching past our five mile marker, a convenience store on the corner of Essex and Declan. I gasp a sigh of relief as the sweat drips from the top of my head. Dan begins to slow down to a light jog and we catch out breaths, beginning the cool down before we finish off the return trip.

"You're," he huffs, "doing better."

"I don't know why," I suck in a lungful of air, "you make me come with you."

"Misery loves company, partner." Dan grins at me and I lash out, cuffing him on the back of his sweaty bald head.

Ass.

"I need a favor," I say as he rubs the back of his head.

His lip twitches up in a smirk. "You shouldn't smack people you need favors from."

"Yeah, well, you don't get a choice here, Daniel," I let his full name roll off my tongue. This slows us down to a walk. My hands go to my hips and I shake out the tingling in my legs.

"Whatcha need?" he asks. His hands raise and lace above him to rest palms down on top of his head. The grey shirt he's wearing is dark in patches wear he's sweated through.

Gross.

"I'm going to need you take Michelle off my hands tomorrow," I tell him. It's not like this should come as a surprise. When we haven't been discussing work, Dan's been listening to me recount the details of my date with Nikki.

I like her. I really like her and…

"Nor, is this 'cause of the stripper?" he asks, eyes narrowing at my flushed face.

"Yes, it is. I like Nikki. I'd like to see where we can go…"

"Nowhere, Nora, you aren't going to be able to go anywhere," he interrupts me and motions for us to sit on an unoccupied bus stop bench.

"You don't know that," I say as I collapse on to the concrete slab.

He frowns and tries again, "Look, I'm not saying because she's a stripper that that's…no, wait, I guess I am. I mean, I'm not judging her or whatever. She seems to like it. I just don't know at the end of it, if you're going to be able to handle that, Nora."

The concern's evident, but it's really none of his concern of whether or not I'm going to be able to handle it or not. I think I will be. "Don't think it really concerns you, Dan."

"It does. You concern me, ergo, she concerns me and her occupation and your reaction are things I will have to deal with." He smiles at me, sort of sweetly.

It's not sweet enough to dampen my annoyance. "Look, just take Michelle off my hands. I don't think it's right, to Nikki or to Michelle, if they think I'm seeing other people."

"So you want to see Nikki only?" Dan asks a little louder to be heard above the passing tow truck. He looks out over Essex, scanning the light traffic this morning.

"I do." I frown and remember the not so fun portion of our date. I didn't mean to kill the mood when I mentioned the birthday dinner. I was actually really close to asking Nikki along, but…it's too soon and well, she's still…

"Why?" Dan interrupts me, slinging his arm over the back of the bench and flicking my left shoulder.

I shrug. "I like her. I think I deserve—she deserves to be given a fair shot. Something about her tells me she hasn't gotten a lot of them. She's funny, quick on her feet, she makes me smile," I admit easily enough.

"She ain't bad on the eyes…" Dan sing-songs.

I shrug. "Yeah, but…" I fidget with the hem of my tank top and keep my focus in front of me. "It's more than that. Looks aside, which I won't complain out, there's something between us. Something strong enough for me to overlook her occupation and find out what we can be together."

"Okay, I got your back here." He stands quickly and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. "Last one to the station has to finish off paperwork for the week."

I get no time to respond as he takes off around the bench and back the way we came.

"Asshole!" I holler and start to sprint after him.

He's got another thing coming if he thinks I'm going to be stuck doing his paperwork the rest of the week.

* * *

"_Are we still on?"_ I read the text message and smile. At least she's been thinking about me.

"_Yep,"_ I reply quickly, set my phone back on my desk and go back to building my paperclip chain. Dan's across from me, hunched over his keyboard, jabbing at the keys. "Any questions, detective?"

He glances up at me and scowls.

I offer him a little wave of my fingers and shrug. "You shouldn't have messed with the bull…"

"'Cause she's full of shit!" Georgia chimes in from her own desk beside mine.

We all snicker.

"You get the horns," her partner, Ryan Gauthrie tuts from next to Dan. His face is pinched in an annoyed frown. "Why do you three have to be so…"

"Hey," Dan pipes in, "Not our fault your virgin ears and Mormon sensibilities can't handle the heat…"

"And you know what they say, Ryan," I remind him. "If you can't take the heat, get your ass out of the kitchen." I wiggle my eyebrows and he rolls his eyes.

Truthfully, Matt's not a bad guy. Transferred from Utah a year ago. He sticks out like sore thumb among the other detectives in S.C.U., but he's a good cop. That keeps him from getting screwed with more than it would if he were an asshole. That and his wife makes the best damn coffee cake I've ever tasted.

On the other hand, Jeremy Chastain, Drew Walsh's partner, gets most of our misplaced annoyance. Chastain's a straight up jerk. I just hope I'm here when he comes in to his desk drawers being nailed shut. I grin at the thought. Bastard should have backed Drew up in Georgia and Matt's take down last week. Instead, he throws Drew under the bus to cover up his own fuck up by not following his partner.

I toe the gym bag further under my desk. The handle and part of the chord for the staple/brad gun sticking out of the overfull bag.

"It's okay, Gauthrie," Georgia soothes her partner, "I'll still work with you."

Ryan shakes his head and goes back to his reports.

Georgia shoots me a wink as my phone buzzes. Nikki's reply asks me how my day is going. My left fingers drum across the desktop as my right thumb hovers over the screen to reply. Looking around, I reply truthfully, _"Kind of boring. Your's?"_

Her response is much quicker this time, _"Not bad. I'm sure your day will improve later. In fact, I'll guarantee it."_

"_And how will you do that?" _I reply, a grin creeping up my face.

"_You'll just have to wait and see,"_ she responds. _"BTW, what are you cooking me?"_

"_Take out, pick your ethnicity and I'll order us up some mean supper."_

"_Not cooking?" _I read the quick response.

"_You don't want me in a kitchen." _I send back.

"_Oh, sugga, I'd take you just about anywhere you'd let me. Kitchen, floor, shower, backseat…"_

I feel the heat rise to my cheeks at her response. Tugging at the collar of my t-shirt, I blow the bangs out of my eyes.

"Delaney, Harney, I need to see you guys for a second," Lt. Badlani materializes next to Dan and me. Tall and rail thin, with thinning gray hair, his face doesn't tell me anything about why he needs to see us.

Damn.

Dan and I exchange a quick look and I lock my phone, set it down and stand, following our boss. His office is on the small side, the fact that he managed to fit three chairs and his desk in here still impresses me. I think my bathroom is larger than this.

"Go ahead and leave the door open," Badlani says, halting Dan from closing the door all the way. "I just wanted to let you know that I've been asked to have you two temporarily reassigned to another division. You'll need to hand off your opens cases to the team." He settles behind his desk and pushes the sleeves of his grey button down up. "Monday, I expect you two to report to Central and meet with Commander Delaney."

"Ah," Dan sighs. "We're on Daddy's assignment."

"Harney," Badlani snips.

"Stuff it, Dan. You're just as much a part of my family as I am," I bark.

"This didn't come from your father, Nora. He's just taking point for your integration onto the task force." Badlani eyes us up. "From what's been passed on down the line, it's a federal case. They need to play nice with us plebs if they're gonna play in our sandbox. You two were lucky enough to pull the babysitting job." His lips thin out in a smile.

It's not a good one.

"Go pass off your work, take your licks and get out of here 'till Monday," he barks his final orders and shoos us from his office.

I can feel the rumble of discontent start in my chest. Dan must hear it too. He clamps one of his massive paws over the top of my bicep and drags me backwards out of the office. The only thing I manage is a squeak of protest before he snaps, "Shut your pie hole, partner. It's not his fault."

We make it halfway to our desks before I shake him off. "Doesn't mean I can't bitch." I tug my shirt down and roll my shoulders all while managing to glare at him.

He rolls his eyes and points to my phone. The display is lit up and he says, "Your lady friend looks to be blowin' you up." He makes a fake gun from his thumb and index finger and pretends to shoot my phone.

I look down and see the partially displayed message from Nikki, _"Did I break you? If I'd known it…"_ I laugh at her teasing and look over to my partner. "Why don't you start shoveling off our scraps and shut _your_ pie hole."

Giving a mock salute, Dan gathers the few cases we have on our list and heads over to Walsh's and Chastain's desk. Georgia is snickering as Chastain tugs on his top drawer. A look of pure confusion and annoyance clouding his boorish face. Ryan's grin is hidden behind the coffee mug we got his first week that reads, 'World's Sexiest Mormon.'

Snickering, I unlock my phone and reply to Nikki while a series of cruse words in English and Creole are let loose behind me, _"I'll be done here soon. My place in an hour?"_ I hit send and then respond to her last message. _"And no, you didn't break me. My boss needed to talk to me. It'll take a bit more than a few suggestions from you to break me."_

The reply comes just as Dan crosses back over to talk to Ryan and Georgia. _"Text me your address."_ I'm about ready to send it to her when another text comes through. _"I figured, but just so we're clear when I break you, gorgeous, you'll thank me afterwards."_

I feel my cheeks and neck flush as I read. Clearing my throat I lock my phone and slip it into my pocket. I think it's time to go home. Gathering my keys and bag, I notice Ryan looking at me, a light eyebrow cocked in question.

I shrug and say quietly, "Hot date."

He nods approvingly and says I pass, "Treat the lady right, Delaney."

"Always do," I say patting him on the shoulder as he watches Chastain fuss and fit behind me.

* * *

My eyes sweep over the living room. With my hands on my hips, I scan the only place that is of serious concern to me—the book case that has a shelf dedicated to family photos. Striding over, I scan them and sigh.

All of them need to go.

All of them showcase one of us in uniform. If it's not me, it's Kira. If it's not Kira, it's Dad…or all of us…or us with Dan or my cousins or my aunt. All of them in their dress blues if they're in a photo. Scowling, I pluck them from the shelf and head towards the hall closet.

It's not like I'm embarrassed by my family. Actually, I'm really proud of them. I just…gnawing at my lower lip, I slip them on an open space on the built-in shelving unit.

I don't want her to freak out. For some reason, the only girls that seem to be interested are the ones that think it's "hot" or the ones that get freaked and break it off when they find out. Given what she does…knowing she knows people that I'd probably arrest…I'd rather hold off on telling her.

Or not tell her at all if tonight flops and we decide to not do…whatever it is that we're doing.

It'd be nice to be judged on being myself then being judged on being my job. It is a large part of who I am, but so is being a girl, owning the Camino and being gay. All parts are important to me, but they aren't the sum.

I shut the closet door and do another scan of my home. Everything's in order. The food's in the oven keeping warm and I even managed to get cleaned up before Nikki gets here. I rub my palms along my thighs to rid them of their dampness. I can't tell if I'm nervous or excited…

Maybe both.

It's not like I expect Nikki and I to sleep together, contrary to Dan's perverse fantasies of how I spend my time when not working.

Three soft wraps pull my attention to the front door. I glance down into the face of the oversized Special Forces watch my dad got me when I made detective and see that she's on time. My cheeks puff out and I let out a slow breath. "Coming," I call out as I head for the door.

"Not yet," Nikki says behind my front door and gives off a titter.

"Too easyyy…" I trail off as I open the door to let her in. I freeze, my hand tightens on the knob, and I lose most higher brain function.

I've never been one for clichéd fantasies. Just like porn, they seem cheap and tawdry by my standards. I get more turned on by a woman that leaves more to the imagination and then lets me take my time unwrapping and/or figuring her out. But this…

Nikki standing at my front door in some incredibly high heels, accentuating the sleek, smooth, toned calves and well-muscled, creamy thighs that disappear under a mid-thigh length tan trench coat…

She may have just converted me.

My gaze travels north, over the swell of her hips emphasized by the belt of the coat cinched at her waist. The only visible article of additional clothing is a tie. I tilt my head to the side at the figure of Supergirl and her logo patterned on the accessory. As I look up, her eyes are bright and playful. A smirk teases the edges of her full lips.

"Oh, sugga, you really should see your face right now," she purrs stepping forward and pressing against me. Her hands loosen the knot of the tie and she slips it off over her head, allowing the collar of the coat to fall open a little. It exposes only smooth skin. She pulls the tie over my head and pecks my cheek. "For my hero."

"You…what…clothes?" I finally squeak as she presses passed me and slips into my home.

I manage to turn around and shut the door just as she starts to undo the belt of her coat. Her laughter is light as she shakes her head and says, "You didn't think I'd be that easy, did you?" The ends of the belt fall to her sides as the coat spills open revealing shorts and a soft green tank top.

I flush, the heat radiating off my cheeks, neck and ears.

She takes her liberties, hanging the coat on a hook where I keep a few of my own jackets. "It smells wonderful, what did you order?"

"I, uh…" I stammer and follow her in to my house. Her hips swing their way towards the kitchen. My place isn't that big and the living room and dining area are all one open space. A high counter separates the kitchen from the dining area.

"Words, Nora dear. We use them, sometimes to communicate or to convey thoughts, emotions, wants, desires…" she trails off, her voice deepening as she spins in my direction.

The tease breaks her spell. My head snaps in her direction, a frown firmly planted on my face. "You're cruel," I state and jab a finger in her direction.

Her right shoulder gives a little shrug as she pokes her nose in the oven. "Have to start breaking you in," she says with her back to me as she shuts the oven door. "Italian, nice choice."

"Safe choice," I correct her with a smile. "I wasn't sure what you would like, but I don't know anyone that doesn't like Italian so…" I lean against the counter top and lace my fingers together, resting them on my stomach.

"So, am I good enough to get the nickel tour?" she asks stepping in front of me.

I move my hands and use my right to take hold of her left. "I'll give you the grand tour." I spin us so that we're both facing the living and dining room. "This is the sitting room, den, guest room, dining room and private library." I tug her along and point out the closed closet, "Utility room." I move us passed it and into the bedroom. "Here we have the bedroom, master bath, guest bath and walk-in closet."

Really, my apartment isn't huge.

"Seven hundred square feet of pure luxury," I joke and turn towards her.

"Hmm, it's cute," she says playing with the ring on my right finger.

"Cute?" I scoff and press my left hand to my chest. "I don't do 'cute' woman."

"I beg to differ, Supergirl." She gives a tug at the tie still hanging around my neck. "You do cute quite well."

"Uh-huh, well…" I pause, not sure how exactly I can argue with her when she's looking at me with those big brown eyes.

"Come on," she urges, using the tie to lead me back into the living area. "I'm famished and you promised me food."

"I did," I say as I pry her hand off the tie and motion her to sit down at the little table sitting in front of the counter. "Sit. I'll grab the food. I have water, sweet tea and beer. Which would you like?"

"Tea, please," she says tucking a lock of her thick hair behind her ear.

I nod and turn towards the kitchen.

"How was your day?" I ask making polite conversation while I pull the warm containers from the oven.

"Okay, I was at the club earlier today going over some routines with a new girl," she answers.

I spoon out the pasta and put the salad from the fridge into two small bowls. I grab the pitcher of tea and make my way to the table. "You have to work tonight, right?"

As I round the corner, Nikki stands and takes the tea from my hands. "I do. I have to leave here at eight thirty, if I want to be there at nine."

Spinning back to grab the food, I say, "That's not too bad. How long do you have to work?"

"Two or when business start to die down. Geno's pretty good about closing down if it starts to get too slow. No point in keeping his dancers there if there's no one coming in the door."

"Makes sense," I agree and balance the two plates and two bowls in my hands and forearms.

"What about you?" she asks as I approach the table and set the food down. "Anything exciting happen?"

"Not really," I say, giving her a half-truth. It wasn't super exciting at work. The only thing I have to tell is about me and Dan getting pulled on to the task force, but it's not like I can tell her that.

She gives off a little laugh as she looks over the food. Her gaze travels my way and she reaches to tug on the tie I keep forgetting is there. "It looks good on you."

I look down and shake my head. "Supergirl? Really?"

"I was going to go with Batwoman, but she's a brunette. Besides, I sort of had my first lady crush on Helen Slater," she admits and pokes her tongue out at me.

I cock an eyebrow at the admission. "So you have a long standing thing for blondes?"

"Maybe." She cocks her eyebrow, mirroring my expression. "Or maybe I have a thing for girls who know how to treat a girl right."

"I don't remember Supergirl ever hooking up with another girl."

"She didn't, but I'd imagine that if she did, she'd almost be as sweet as you." She taps the tip of her finger on my nose and begins to dig in.

I bite my lower lip as she takes her first bite. I sigh.

Well, at least I know tonight isn't a flop. My gut was right. Nikki's gonna be worth the risk.


	6. Our Burden to Bear

**Ch. 6 – Our Burden to Bear**

I remember when I first started working, going to a place like I'm getting ready to walk into tonight, I'd be shaking like a leaf. On those nights, realizing that the party going on in the house two driveways up on my left felt like such a perversion to the Americana that I grew up with, I was nearly ill a few times…

Of course that was before.

This is now and now, gatherings like this are little more than networking and sales. One thing I spend more time on than others in my position is the self-reflection. It's amazed me how much I've adapted to in the time that I have.

I guess it's adaptation…assimilation…nature, perhaps, it's the fundamental need to survive and preserve as much of myself as possible that's took over. Regardless of how much, or how little is left of who I once was.

"Nik," Darius whispers next to me. Why he's whispering is anyone's guess. We're the only two in the car and from the looks of it; the last to arrive to tonight's little party.

"Darius," I return at a normal volume, the tone is just this side of mocking.

"You ready?" he asks with his head slightly tilted to the side to take me in.

I shrug. He's the last person I need to be having that conversation with. Instead, I plaster on a smile and focus on something far more enjoyable than the brooding I was doing, "Feeling good about tonight?"

His lips purse and he shakes his head. "Yeah. I'm ready. Don't know if you are though."

It's my turn to tilt my head and furrow my brow.

He licks his lips before saying, "Just you know if tonight goes like I think it will, our score will be big. Enough for us not to worry sooner rather than later. I know we've been going at this for a long time, Nikki. Longer than I thought you and I would stay friends." He closes the open folder on his lap, slips it on the dashboard and goes to staring out the windshield of the car. "I keep tabs, to make sure you're okay. There's a girl. Some woman that you met at the club. What's going on with that and why haven't you told me?"

"That's…really, Darius?" I snip, even though I'm well aware of my shadows when Darius isn't around. "She's just someone I'm seeing…"

"Someone that you don't need to be getting involved with right now," he chides. "It's not the right time for this, Nikki. We've put in a lot of work, making the right connections, attending the right parties," he motions to the house we'll be going to tonight, "and add to the fact of who we are and what we do…"

"Why do you make it sound like I'm putting all the work we've done in jeopardy? Have I ever wavered?" I grip the steering wheel a little tighter, the muscles in my jaw flexing to work out the notion to rip him a new one. "We've only seen each other a handful of times…"

He sighs and slouches further in his seat. "I didn't mean…" I cast a glance his way and see the knotted muscle under his dark skin. "We're…Don't think I don't know, Nikki. Entanglements this late in the game…"

"Dar," I soften a little and pat his knee, "sugga, I know what I'm doing. I've rode in this rodeo before. We lock up what we need to tonight and over the next week or two and we can sail away." I close my eyes, imagining the plans we've come up with together over the years, actually becoming reality. "Like I said, it's fun right now. She's sweet and funny, even got a little bark to her, but I know who we are…what we are—I wouldn't do that to you." I swallow down the acid burbling up.

It's a half-truth for his sake. Truthfully, I like Nora more than just a little. More than I should for the position I'm in.

I don't think it'll stop what happens with her. I don't think she'll let it either.

"So, my great protector, why don't you can the 'daddy on prom night' routine and tell me about our marks?" I pat his leg again and reach for the folder he put on my dash. The top pages are eight-by-tens, surveillance photos. Three are of middle aged men and the fourth is of a woman, my guess puts her in her late forty's. The rest of the pages have the same photos only smaller in the upper left hand corner and then basic info.

"The first guy is Howard Evocovich. Loaded, old Ukranian gangsta. He's our mover. Second's…"

"Patsy Cassella, Mafioso," I cut in.

"At least you read some," he huffs and continues, "Patsy works with the lady, Paula Connolly, on distribution."

"The third guy?" I ask not recognizing him from any of the information Darius has passed my way.

"Scott Serway, the organizer," Darius fills in.

"How?" I ask needing to know the web of relationships I'm going to be stepping into.

"Rusty. He called asked if I could provide the sweets for tonight. That put us in touch with Scotty-boy. From what I got from him, if we deliver tonight, it'll be one major order after, y'know?"

I nod. I know exactly.

"Any other connections?" I wonder as I close the file and place it on the dash.

"Just what we know, boo," my man says with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

"All right, then sugga. Before we go in, two things, Nora, that's the girl I'm seeing, she's giving me a piece of happiness and I already know what it can and can't be, Dar. Let me ride this out without you coming down on me?" I plead. He stares at me for a few moments and then dips his chin. "Two, Geno wants a fifth. We leave him out of this at the end. He's as clean as they come in this business."

"I can do that," he readily agrees and we exit the car.

I take a moment to pull myself together on the sidewalk, adjusting the cocktail dress I'm wearing, making sure my girls are plumped and ready to do most of the work tonight. The low whistle from Darius and his verbal appreciation are confirmation enough, "You look any finer and I'ma have to surround you with security."

I wink. "You clean up just as well." I take in the slacks and button down he has on. Not baggy, but fitting and clean. His hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and the rings that are usually in his face are out. "You almost," I give a sparse gap between my thumb and index, "look respectable."

"Phsaw, shorty, you go and look up 'respectable' in the dictionary and you'll see my pearly whites right there." He puffs out his chest, pops the collar on his button-down adds a bit more swagger to his step.

Rolling my eyes, I slip my arm through his and we head towards the party. I mentally prepare myself for the evening ahead. It's a work night.

As we reach the front door, Darius quickly fixes his collar then hits the bell. Immediately, it swings open. Scott's smile is wide, welcoming, as he ushers us inside, "Darius, great for you to join us." They shake hands and then Scott sets his eyes on me. "You," he shakes his index finger at me, "Nikki, right?"

Letting myself fall into the role, I manage a half-smile and offer my hand in greeting. "Guilty as charged. Scott, correct?"

"Indeed." Gently, he takes hold of my fingers and raises his hand to his lips. They're warm and dry as he presses them against my skin. "Now," he says as he lets my hand go to usher us towards the living room where the party is in full swing, "Rusty and Darius have said wondrous things about you. It's a pleasure to finally meet."

"Likewise," I say quietly as I take in the site before me.

"Now, there's a bartender in the kitchen, shall I get you anything?" Scott looks between the two of us.

"A Rum and Coke for both of us, please," Darius informs him.

Scott offers a quick bow before attending to the drink orders. I'm still studying the crowd, noting who's here that I know and making a point to introduce myself or get introduced to the faces I don't know.

Darius leads me to two open seats on one of the couches. I take the middle seat and sit between him and another woman. She's on the younger side with hazel eyes and soft blonde hair. The white halter style dress fits her body well and exposes smooth, strong shoulders and arms. On her left arm she has a half sleeve of tattoos, intricate ivy and floral patterns mark her skin and stop just above the crook of her elbow.

Directing her gaze my way, she bats her lashes and asks, "Amazing party isn't it?"

"Rosie." I offer a beaming smile as I feel a small plastic baggie push into my hand.

"Excuse me," she says as she stands, "I think I see my old friend, Ginny."

I watch her saunter off and tuck the baggie into the small side pocket of my purse just as Scott returns with our drinks.

* * *

The night is still, quiet, and perfect. I bite my lower lip and look at Nora's living room window. I can't see inside, the curtains are closed, but there is a light on. She's up, maybe, or maybe she just forgot to turn out a light before she fell asleep.

I do that sometimes, you lay on the couch and you drift, next thing you know, you wake up at some ridiculous hour with all the lights in the house on and stiff neck.

Maybe this is a bad idea.

I run my tongue along my front gums and suck.

Okay, so the bad idea was probably the line I did right after dropping Darius off. That was dumb, but I was coming down and I wasn't ready for that just yet. I rarely used recreationally before I started dancing. Some nights I realized that it made it better, some worse, but most of the time, it gives me a perspective I don't think I'd see if I wasn't high. Everything's filtered, softer, and more manageable.

Shifting my weight from foot to foot, I pause on the walkway.

Ah, hell, if I'm in, I may as well go all in. No sense in letting one bad decision deter me from another.

Let's just hope Nora doesn't pick up on it.

Squaring my shoulders, I stride to her door and hit the bell next to the peephole. Cocking my head to the side I listen for signs of life. It's immediate, the scrambling and a soft, 'who's there?'

"Nora, it's me," I say before I realize that 'it's me' isn't really all that descriptive. "It's Nikki."

I hear a chain scrape and lock disengage before light spills out of the doorway.

"Is everything okay?" she asks in greeting. Her eyes are wide and worried. She's got the cutest little crease between them and I can't decide what I want to put my lips on first, that or her chin—that I think I want to nibble on.

I can't help but chuckle at her delivery, so full of concern and earnest. "You really are…" I trail off and step into her space. Lacing my arms around her waist, I lean forward and nuzzle her neck. Her smell is…vanilla, a little spice and something that's her…it overpowers me. All I really want to do is curl up and fall into her with disregard for everything else.

Turning my lips to the tender, silken flesh, I press one open mouth kiss after another before I hear a rumble of pleasure sound from the woman before me. I feel her finally respond as the door shuts and I'm pulled into the apartment.

I remember the layout of her place and take liberties by pushing her back towards her bedroom. Relying on her to make sure the door's open, I refuse to leave my front line attack on her neck. I trace my tongue along the stretch of skin that chords over taught muscle and nibble my way up to her ear.

Her heat, her smell, her sounds are more electric and soothing than any drug I've ever done. We pass through her bedroom door and I finally push away, causing her to land on the bed. She looks slightly stunned, but she's just as turned on as I am.

I toe off my pumps and approach her, pressing an index finger into her right shoulder to signal her to lay down.

"Nikki," she stops moving, takes hold of my finger and steadies me with a hand on my left hip. "Is everything okay?"

I nod. "I…" swallow, not sure how exactly to…Darius with his meddling and then tonight at the party, most of it was awful, but necessary. "I'm a little worked up, Nora," I explain quietly, "Rusty set up this party that I had to go entertain at and I was—am feeling…"

"Horny," she fills in, smiling up at me, a half-formed smirk gracing those pretty lips.

"Yes, and I didn't want…I wanted you," I continue. "So please?"

Nora pushes me back and stands to spin us around. Her hands grab my hips as we switch places. With my back to the bed, she leans in and kisses my neck and right shoulder. Her lips trail down over my clavicle to the other side of my body where she mirrors her early actions. The fabric of my dress bunches at my hips as she gathers it and begins to lift it up and off me.

I breathe a sigh of relief as she exposes me. The cool air of the apartment soothing some of the jagged pieces needing attention. "Nora," I plead a little.

"Shh," she mumbles against the top of my left breast. Her hands quickly work the clasp of the bra in the middle of my back. The strapless bra falls between us and Nora shifts to let the garment tumble the rest of the way to the floor. Her lips slip over one nipple and then south as she falls to her knees.

I run my hands through her hair, gathering the golden locks in my fist as she kisses above and then below my belly button. Her hands tug on my panties and she guides them over my hips to let them join the bra she expertly took care of.

Her mouth works its way around my body, learning it, mapping it and if I wasn't turned on before I came here, I feel like I'm going to melt if I don't get some type of release soon. I can feel the arousal pooling between my legs and Nora really needs to take care of it.

I give a slight tug on her hair to get her to stand and pull us backwards, falling on to the bed. She crawls up me as I scoot up to the top of the mattress. She kneels, with more clothes on that I'd like, between my spread legs. Exposed to her, she stops and her eyes swoop over me before gathering the faded, old Nirvana t-shirt she's wearing and pulls it off to land somewhere on the side of the bed. I lick my lips at her exposed chest.

No bra. Bonus for me.

"I should have done this before getting you into bed," she smirks and slides back to stand and take her pants off. She leaves her panties on as she crawls back up the bed. She slides against me and my hips buck trying to find contact to relieve some of the ache.

Her kiss is quick and firm before she starts back down my body again, settling between my thighs. I pull a few pillows to put behind me, elevating me enough so that I don't have to hold my head up and watch her work. I reach down and pull her hair out of the way. More because watching has always done more for me than I'd care to admit than out of courtesy.

"Fuck, Nikki," she mumbles against my center.

I whimper at the first swipe of her tongue that splits me open. "Jesus," I mumble.

The tremble in my thighs goes to a shake as she begins in earnest, her head bobs rhythmically in exploration. My head falls back against the pillows, my back arcs and I press my hips up, needing her deeper in me. Planting my feet on the mattress, I bend my knees and give her more leverage.

She focuses on my clit and I clamp my eyes shut. "Shit," I mumble unable to keep my orgasm at bay. I grunt and groan as my body shakes, locks up and Nora brings me back down as gently as she can. My name falling from her lips between soft feather light kisses across my hips and up my tummy.

Spent, my knees fall to the side and my feet hook around her waist as she settles between my legs, her chin resting on my stomach. It seems like forever, but I finally manage to look down at her. Those green eyes of hers are bright and shiny as she looks up at me.

"Give me a few more minutes, sug and I'll take care of you," I barely manage to get out.

She shakes her head and leans down to kiss my stomach. "You won't," she states as she rests her cheek on me, her hair falling off to the side, inviting me to play with the thick strands. "I'd rather bask and then get some sleep. It's late."

"Nora, it's only proper…"

She stops with me with a pinch on my hip. "Hush. I'm quite content right where I'm at. Let me bask."

I shrug and snuggle back down into the pillows. My eyes drift close as I feel her pulse beat against my body. The silence is welcome and easy.

"Are you sure everything is okay?" she asks, breaking the slight doze I had been slipping into.

"It is now," I mumble.

"Nik, seriously, I'm not complaining, but if something happened or if someone did something or tried to hurt you," she persists.

"Honor bright," I say finally looking down into concerned features. "Things are great, now. I just needed…" I wave my hand between the two of us, "and I didn't want to get it anywhere else, but with you." I wink at her. "I didn't mean to attack you first off, but you were here, awake and you answered the door."

"Enthusiastic," she jokes and pokes at me, her fingers dancing over my ribs to end with her palm flat against my breast, kneading it gently.

"Hmm," I hum agreeing with her statement and her actions.

"Well, thank you," she says as she works her way up my body to snake an arm under my shoulders to pull me into her.

"I think I'm the one that should be saying that to you." I curl into her, shifting so that I can draw a sheet around us to hip level.

"How about we skip the thanks and get some sleep. If you stick around, I'll get us some breakfast in the morning?" she offers and I nod.

Sleep sounds good. "I'd like that." Really, I would, but morning sex sounds better than breakfast. I don't think I'll have a hard time convincing her either.


	7. Trail of Crumbs

**Ch. 7 – Trail of Crumbs**

The morning is murky and cold. Looking around at the fog blanketing the area, I have to wonder how in the hell the body was found? Who noticed, how did they notice? The sun's trying, lamely, to burn off the night and the fog. It hasn't succeeded yet. I yawn as Dan pulls me along the edge of the property line, following the path laid out by a set of scene techs and a few uniforms.

Waking up is proving to be a bit difficult. Nikki lulled me to this languid state of exhaustion when her early Sunday morning visit turned into a very long, pleasurable Sunday afternoon, evening and resulting late night. I'd complain about the lack of sleep, but it would stupid.

My weekend was amazing.

Then Dan called. He also seems to have noticed I'm not even sort of awake…if the not-so-subtle comment on the large travel mug full of coffee in my hand is anything to go by.

I do my best to ignore the slight smirk on his lips as I ask, "So why did we get this call?"

My partner shrugs and holds a branch covering our path out of my way as I duck under it and stumble over an exposed tree root. His hand clamps around my left bicep, steadying my feet and stopping the forward progress I was making to the soggy ground.

"Woah," he grunts as I shrug his arm off and right myself.

"Thanks," I mumble and move towards the silhouette of the body ten yards ahead. The techs are milling about as we approach and I only see one Uni managing the scene.

"You weren't out drinking were you?" Dan asks from my left, his hands are stuffed in the pockets of his favorite dark blue, flight jacket.

"Don't be an ass," I snap before sipping the coffee Nikki made.

"Well," he shrugs at me, "you look like you haven't slept, but you aren't exactly annoyed that you haven't slep…" He looks me over again and then it happens, a slow, knowing grin grows.

"Stuff it," I manage and prevent the smile. Smiling around a dead body is just considered rude. Even if it takes serious effort for me not to.

"I didn't wake you up when I called you in, did I?" he asks, bumping his shoulder into mine.

"I was dozing," I say unwilling to admit anything more.

"Hmm, I take it Nikki was as well?" He side eye's me.

"Dan," I warn, "not the time."

"What's not the time?" a voice pipes up from behind me.

"Kira?" I ask before even turning around.

"Hey, sis," she waves her hand at me before opening her arms to Dan.

"Well, this is interesting," Dan says as he gives my sister a bear hug and lifting her off the ground. "Why are you here?"

"Because I'm here," my dad jogs up to us being followed by two men in jeans and wind breakers with F.B.I. logos printed on the left side of their chest.

Dan drops Kira back to the ground and he shoots me a look.

Well this certainly is interesting.

Kira pulls her shoulder length blonde hair back into a ponytail and then slips on a pair of latex gloves before offering the small group we've assembled their own pair.

"Good morning, dad," I greet as he leans over to peck me on the cheek. I look around the area of the park and see a small bench off to my right. I set my coffee my down and turn back to the group.

"Dad," Dan greets with a shake of my father's hand.

"Dad, Matthew?" the agent on the left side of my dad asks.

"Vince," my dad turns to the man and makes the introductions, "This is my other daughter, Det. Nora Delaney and her partner, Dan Harney." He turns to us and says, "Vince Jackson and his partner Chris Cunningham. They're with the Criminal Intelligence division out of Quantico."

We all shake hands and make pleasantries before heading over to the body. I'm sort of grateful as Dan picks up the slack in the conversation department. My brain is sluggishly trying to process the new pieces of information it's gathering along with the presence of my dad and my sister.

Jackson and Cunningham are in town for the task force Dan and I have been assigned to. Kira, it looks like is also on this little venture that's been put together. I lean over to Kira and ask, "Fill me in?"

Her green eyes light up and she grins, "It's actually a little more boring than you're thinking. I was called to the scene about an hour ago."

"Why?" I ask as I begin to study the body in front of me.

"The Uni, Ofc. Foos, made a good call."

I glance up and frown at her.

"The Jane Doe was found with a needle in her arm," Kira clarifies. "Dispatch called me, since I've been tagged to come in as a first responder to all potential O.D.'s. The task force you're on now is working with my department and Special Crimes."

I hike an eyebrow and she tries to put me off, "Let's process this, first." A hand goes up to halt the protest on my lips. "Once we clear the scene, we'll let Dan buy us breakfast and I can fill you in on it all. It's actually pretty cool and pretty big."

"How come we were pulled in?" I ask.

"You mean is Daddy playing favorites?" she guesses correctly. I dip my chin. "I actually requested you and Dan. We needed two bodies with cross-functional experience, which is what you do in S.C.U…"

"The magical land where all major crime comes to live," I snicker.

"I would have went to Georgia and Gauthrie, but Sean said they're in and out of court over the next few weeks."

"True," I confirm.

"I like Walsh, but I'd rather eat a bucket of 'gator claws then deal with Chastain," Kira says as she rifles through the contents of the victims small clutch. No I.D. falls out. In fact the only thing that comes out of the purse is a tube of lipstick.

Hmmm…

"Can't fault you there," I agree.

"So yeah, that left you and Dan. I got pulled in because my Lieu just wanted me out of his hair." We both stand as she hands off the two evidence bags to a tech.

"Loggia's got it in for you still?" I ask.

She shakes her head. "Nah, but he's still pissy and Bec's still out on maternity. No current partner so…"

"How's the by the way?" I wonder about Becky Evlyn, my sisters partner in Vice. She's on baby number two. I still can't fathom how she manages to work long Vice operations and still keeps a husband and raise a kid, now two. She either never sleeps or there are two of her.

"Good. I stopped by Saturday. The baby's adorable," my sister gushes. I shoot her a look and her eyes narrow. "Look, sis, just 'cause you have more interest in dogs than you do kids…"

"They live shorter lives and are less expensive," I rattle off my standard argument.

"Kids are better. Period. You don't have to join the baby craze, but I can't wait," she gushes.

Rolling my eyes, I elbow her good naturedly. My sister's such a girl. "Well, you need to find a partner for that," I rib her.

"Pfft, or a turkey baster," she jokes.

"Ew, seriously," I shudder. "You're the queen of rom coms…I know what you're holding out for."

"True, but…" she looks over at Daddy, the agents and my partner, "if it doesn't happen, I can be a single parent."

"Hmm," I say as I start to examine the body. The victim's white halter dress is stained and muddy. From a cursory glance, I can't see tearing or blood stains. Nothing to indicate any type of assault. That's good, well as good as a situation like this can be.

Her light blonde hair is matted from the moisture in the fog and the mud. The fair skin is equally grimy.

"I'll get Charlie to snap a couple of solid pics of the half sleeve," I say pointing at the floral design on her left arm. "If we can't I.D. her in a day or two, I'll take it around to some local shops, maybe someone will recognize the art."

"Sounds good," Kira says absently as she scribbles on her clipboard.

She's going to have to do a lot of filling in over breakfast. For now, I let her to it and stand, telling her I'm going to go round up Dan and see if I can get an E.T.A. on Charlie so we can get out of here. She nods, not looking up from her work and I smirk. At least I know I come by my focus honestly.

* * *

"Cute," I say as I step through the doorway as Nikki ushers me in. I give her outfit, high heels with cut off jean shorts and a tank top another once over. "But," I say spinning around and hooking a finger into one of her belt loops, "why the heels?"

Her shoulder lifts up in a shrug and she says, "I was actually working on one of the club's routines when you called." She points to the pole and small linoleum tiled area in the corner of her living room. "I just didn't bother to change."

Biting my lower lip, I feel my brow knit together. "I've heard of being dedicated…" I trail off at her look.

Her raised eyebrows and crossed arms don't look too good. "Well, regardless of what I do, I like to be prepared." The statement is clipped.

"Of course," I say as seriously as possible. "I, uh, well, I just didn't think…"

"Think what?" she asks pulling away to put the chain on her door.

"Well," I pause and rub the back of my neck, stalling to find the right words, "it's just someone that does what you do, I didn't think that those types of people…"

Shit.

"No," I swallow, "that came out wrong. Dancers, clothed or not, I mean, don't you usually work in a studio?" I finally get out.

"Did you come over spoiling for a fight or are you that cranky because of work that you have no idea how what you just implied can be taken?" Her right eyebrow lifts up as she waits on my answer.

I feel the heat rise in my face and have the good sense to look at the floor.

"Nora?" she asks again, her tone belying her waning patience.

"More work, I'm sorry, it really did come out all wrong," I finally say. "Between the call so early this morning and having to leave you in bed…" I try to excuse my lack of tact. "I wasn't trying to imply…I know we talked."

"Which was before we spent half the weekend in bed," she reminds me, her tone softening a little as she leads me around to sit on the couch.

"Right, and that hasn't changed," I try to reassure her as we plop down and I draw her to me, wrapping my arms around her shoulders so she can cuddle against me. "I just wasn't thinking, then you in heels sort of made my brain extra gooey and then the pole, which I've seen, just sort of forgot about."

"Hmm," she hums against my chest, her breath moist and warm as it spreads through the thin material of my t-shirt to settle against my skin. "So what you're saying is that you're an idiot?"

"Exactly," I agree.

"As long as we're still…"

"We are," I reassure again. "Chalk it up to my stupidity and let's start over. Hi Nikki, you look amazing. How was your day?"

Snickering against me, she let's me off the hook and plays along, "Boring, worked a little and then did laundry. How was your's and why did you have to leave so early this morning?"

"Just an emergency at the office. Dan and I got put on this project and it started sooner than either of us were expecting is all," I play it off, knowing that eventually I will have to tell her what it is that I actually do.

"So it was that bad?" she wonders as she shifts in my arms and sits up to put my feet in her lap. She tugs at me sneakers, pulling them off and lets them drop to the floor.

I wiggle my toes as their freed from the black ankle socks I had on. "The first half of the day wasn't bad. The second half was cutting through government red tape," I grumble remembering the hours spent on the phone trying to push through some of the basic forensics that need to be done on our Jane Doe.

"Which prompted your want to come over…"

"That would be it," I agree and watch as her hands slide up my legs and move to the snap on my jeans. She flicks at it and I watch the button pop open. I stop her hand as it moves to my zipper, "Nikki."

"Yes," she says not looking up from her task of trying to remove my hand.

I grab her hands in mine and bring them to my chest, resting them there to get her attention. "Nikki, seriously, I didn't come over here to get laid."

Her brown eyes go a little wide and I hurry to clarify, "Nikki, I just wanted to see you. I was hoping your sarcasm would scrub away the bureaucracy."

She starts to pull away, faltering as I hold tight to her hands. I let go as she struggles a little more and retreats to the other side of the couch.

"Nikki?" I ask trying to figure out what I said that set her off this time. Is it me? Am I really that out of it right now that everything I'm saying is upsetting?

"Nora," she presses her lips together and pauses "I…"

I sit up a little straighter and wait. I know I'm tired. I know I'm a little cranky and my filter's slightly off, but…

I have to be missing something here.

"Did I say something wrong, again?" I need to know.

Running a hand through her hair, she sighs and starts to shake her head, but stops. "I just…we talked about this."

We did?

What did we talk about?

Her job, some of her history…letting the conversations we had tumble around in my head for a minute more, it finally clicks and I say, "Is this not casual enough?"

Did I overstep my bounds? I didn't think…

"No, yes, I…"

"Nikki," I say her name gently, leaning forward to pull her feet into my lap. Slipping her high heels off both feet, I settle her left, but take her right and begin kneading it. "I need you to understand that while the sex is amazing, I just don't want that from you. Even if we don't have sex, I like being around you. If the sex confuses it, I'd take friends."

"But Nora," she tries.

"No, I'm serious. Casual is good. I agreed to that. But I don't want you thinking that the only thing I'm around you for is to use you." I hold her gaze briefly, trying to convey how serious I am about this. Knowing some of her history in her failed attempts at relationships. "You're not a fuck buddy, you're not my property. If we have sex, great, but you're more than a pretty face with a great body."

"I know…"

"You do and you don't," I stop her protest. "So, let me prove myself and let's not over think it. Can we just relax; you can come back over here and cuddle with me while you tell me funny stories about the club?" I pout at her and bat my eyelashes, trying for a bit of playfulness.

I hold my arms open wide and wait her out, giving a few sniffles to make my point. She huffs, blowing the bangs from her eyes before relenting, and crawling back into my lap.

"You staying here?" she asks as I settle my arms around her and rest my hands at the small of her back.

"If you want," I yawn as I feel her breathe in and out.

"Yeah," she mumbles rubbing her nose on my shirt. "I guess, but if you get too clingy, I'm going to put you in a box on the curb with a sign around your neck that reads 'free to a good home'."

"Hmm," I mumble as I struggle to keep my eyes open. "Okay."


	8. Weak Knees & Shaking Hands

**Ch. 8 – Weak Knees, Shaking Hands**

I pinch the bridge of my nose and shake my head. My eyes flutter shut as I bark, "Stop!" Shirley Manson's voice is cut right before the she hits the last line before the bridge. I wonder if anyone will actually notice the song once we get this number running smoothly? "Sex is Not the Enemy" was one of my more inspired choices. The only problem is that I think I'm over estimating the intelligence of Rusty's usual crowd.

There's an audible groan from the stage and I hear Chrissy start to whine. "Oh, no!" I snap at her. "You will not be sighing, rolling your eyes, or giving me any lip when your ass is three steps ahead of the Goddamn song!"

I've tried.

I've been patient.

I've shown her. I've explained it until I was blue in the face and yet…

She's not even close to nailing the routine Geno asked me to put together.

I'm going to throttle her.

I finally crack my left eye open and look up from the dark blue quartz-blended floor to the dark stage, and at the cause of my boiling indigestion. Chrissy's…it's a disservice to call her a 'typical blonde' because while she has her moments, she can be fairly insightful and self-aware…

But for the life of me, the girl has two left feet. The fact that she's a decent stripper is more than likely due to her disarming sense of humor and silicone enhanced bust. She makes more doing lap dances than stage work, but she's also filling in for a vacationing Jenna.

"I swear to God, Chrissy, those two left feet you have are about ready to do me in," I grumble and let my hands fall to my sides. She's looking down at me, sweaty, annoyed, and if I didn't know that she knew leaping off the stage to strangle me would get her fired, I'd be worried.

The front door opens, allowing the afternoon sun to spill in briefly before Geno's frame fills the doorway. He stomps in being followed Patsy Casella and Scott Serway, two of the marks from Saturday night. I watch the group pass by. A small smile and a nod the only acknowledgement I receive. Moving through the heavy black curtain that blends with the wall, they head to the back of the club.

I'm already following. I call out over my shoulder, "Take fifteen. We'll see if we can start fresh or find both your feet and a sense of rhythm before we get back."

I look over my shoulder and see Chrissy's mouth open in protest. I 'shh' her before a word is uttered. I'm not in the mood and I now have more important things to do. Slipping behind the curtain, I barely ruffle the heavy fabric.

The location of Geno's office, sitting right next to the men's bathroom, the up or down side is entirely dependent upon Mike. If he's been in there, then it's bad. If he hasn't then it's good. I know he hasn't. So lucky for me, I'll be able to stomach going in.

There are two stalls sitting off to the right of the doorway while the urinal and sink are on the left. The stall closest to the entrance is the one with the shared duct to Geno's office. I'm not sure he knows or if anyone else knows that when the club's quiet you can hear every word spoken in the next room.

Taking my usual spot in the grimy three by four foot space, I make sure the stall's locked before settling down on the scarred, dingy-white seat to listen.

It doesn't take long for Geno's voice to carry though, "Rusty didn't say how Saturday went."

"It was adequate…" Scott answers quickly.

"That's what you're calling that cluster…" Patsy follows up, cutting Scott off. "The party part was fine. The after was…"

"Unfortunate, but a necessity," Scott cuts Patsy off this time.

"What happened?" Geno asks.

The soft hum of the air conditioner fills the silence as it stretches. It's moments like this where I wish I actually could see what's going on. Whatever's not being said is just as important as the bit of ease dropping I'm doing.

I wonder if Nora, in all her Supergirl glory, actually has x-ray vision and if so, I wonder if she can pass that along to me…?

"Look, let's just put the false pleasantries to rest," Scott finally speaks. "There was an issue; the issue was properly disposed of. I've got somewhere to be in an hour and furthermore, the less you know Geno, the better…for all."

There are twin coughs before Geno's voice fills the silence, "Right…well, we'll have everything on our end ready for you when you need it."

"Greatly appreciated," Scott's voice has lost some of the tension, far more placating than normal. No doubt compensating for the small skirmish. I'm surprised it wasn't Patty that got snippy. The brief interaction I had with the man Saturday was enough tell me that he was unpleasant and just a wee bit psychopathic.

"Should I expect payment at delivery, or…?" Geno trails off, coming through a little unsure. He probably is. This isn't the man's usual forte. He's a business manager. From my observations, he doesn't make it a habit to get involved with things like this.

"I'll be taking care of everything at deliver..." Scott starts.

"Hey," Geno cuts him off, "This was partly a favor for Rusty, but..."

"You've been…" Patsy's voice is rough, biting as he butts in.

"Patsy," Scott warns. "Geno," he directs his attention back to my boss, "I understand and appreciate the risks…"

"I don't think you do, Scott, but as long as everyone's ducks line up…" There's a break in the conversation before Geno fills in, "I couldn't care less. You've handled your end today. I just want to make sure the rest of the people that I've brought in are taken care of."

"At delivery all remunerations will be shored up. I assure you," Scott answers right away.

"I think that means we're good," Patsy truncates the conversation.

"We are. I'll message you when the pick-up is ready," Geno says.

I can hear the creak of the chairs and I know I need to go and make myself scarce. Quickly, I stand, throw the lock on the stall door and slip out of it and then the bathroom. I cast a glance over my shoulder to make sure Geno's office door is still closed and stride towards the front of the club.

Chrissy should be ready to start up again. I slip past the curtain at the end of the dark short hallway just as I hear Geno's door open. Squeezing between the part in the curtain and the wall, I look towards the stage and see Chrissy's not back yet.

Not that I'm surprised by that, but my steps falter anyway. Darius is sitting at the bar, chatting easily with Mike. Curious, I step up behind him and place my hands on thin shoulders. "Darius," I purr into his ear.

His head turns to look at me and he greets, "Nik!" I hear the three men coming down the hall and I can't shake the sudden need to get Darius out of their line of sight.

Quickly, I pull him to his feet and tug him as fast as possible behind the bar and into the stock room. He sputters a protest as I push him inside and shut the door, shoving a case of Jack Daniels in front of it to keep anyone from coming in.

I round on him as he snaps, "What the actual fuck, Nikki?"

I stop and look at him as the heavy beat my heart was drumming begins to settle to a more even paced tempo. I can't really explain the reaction. Instinct? Maybe…I just know that if they would have seen him, it wouldn't be good.

So I don't really respond to the question. I place my hands on my hips and wait out his annoyance. It takes a few beats but he finally calms when he realizes that I won't be answering that question.

"What are you doing here?" I need to know. He doesn't often pop in here without talking to me first. And on the two occasions he's done so, at any club I've ever worked, unannounced, it's usually bad news.

With Darius, I go by the adage, 'no news is good news.'

"Why don't you tell me why I was shoved in here first?" he counters, mirroring my stance.

My lips purse as I suck my teeth, deciding on the truth or not. My fingers drum across my hip bone before I answer, "Serway and Casella were in with Geno. I just didn't think it would be good for them to see you."

"Huh," Darius grunts as his brow furrows. "Why for?"

"Why for, what?" I ask, slumping against the corner of the closest shelving unit.

"Why are they here?" Dar clarifies as he hops onto a stack of boxes his legs knocking off the sides.

"A few reasons…from what I could eavesdrop on. Payment was discussed but…" I trail off not sure how to word the unease I felt from Scott's dismissal of the "issue" they ran into. I wish I knew what the "issue" was—

I watch him suck his teeth as the ideas he's not sharing roll around in his head. "What else?" he finally asks.

"What else, what?" I stall. Huffing, he stares at me. Should have known I wouldn't get away with that twice. "There was mention of an issue. Scott insisted it was taken care of…apparently it happened Saturday night."

His eyes grow large at the mention of Saturday night and I swear his dark skin lost a little color. Licking his lips, he says, "Well, that's why I'm here. Word 'round town is that Penny Bullock got round tabled all the way to St. Peter."

* * *

Using the edge of my towel I wipe off the steam covered mirror in Nora's bathroom and shake my hair free of the towel it's wrapped in. The damp strands fall around my shoulders far curlier in their wet form than when they dry. Having thick wavy hair is nice, most of the time. The maintenance on it can be a bear. Sighing, I start the process of taming the beast.

I'm not sure where Nora ran off to, but when I woke this morning to cold sheets, I did take note of the car keys resting on the nightstand. So off I went to grab a shower, happy with the idea that she didn't go far. Trying not to feel too put out, I really wanted to repay Nora for the last orgasm I had before drifting off. From waiting in my dressing room over an hour as I closed Rusty's down, to being far more attentive a lover than I had anticipated, the blonde had earned a healthy payback.

With the last clean swipe of the brush, I set it down satisfied I won't have a mess of tangles and it's good enough to put in a ponytail until work. I toss my wet towels on the hook that Nora freed up for me the last time I stayed the night, flip the light off and head for clothes. I quickly pull on panties, a pair of basketball shorts, and sweatshirt of Nora's. Noise, Nora's laughter and another, decidedly male, voice filter through down the hall. Curious, I stride out of the bedroom towards my hostess' laughter and call out, "Nora?" I stop at the kitchen's threshold where she and a young man with Nora's shaggy blonde hair and green eyes blink back at me.

"Nic," my lover squeaks and stammers, "Uh, 'morning and uh…this is my brother, Bobby." Her head turns to Bobby and she says, "This is Nikki."

"Nice to meet you," Bobby grins and stands with an outstretched hand.

I reach out shaking the offered hand that's smooth yet calloused in a semi-firm grip. "Pleasure's mine." I return his grin and let his hand go to take the seat being offered by Nora. She slides a cup of coffee over to me.

"We can share," she explains by way of a sheepish grin.

"If I'd have known that my big sis had company, I'd have brought more," Bobby offers his own version of the grin that passed over Nora's lips mere seconds ago. It reminds me how scary genetics can actually be.

I quirk an eyebrow and Nora fills in, "I was going to let you sleep in a bit and grab us breakfast…"

"But I ran into her on her way out," Bobby finishes off and holds up a pastry box from Miss. Winston's.

"Are you usually up at this hour?" I wonder and pluck a beignet from the box. "And thanks."

"Closed down a bar," he answers around a mouthful of his own donut. "My band's played the last set at Emma's the last three nights." Even with the half masticated donut stuffed in his mouth, Bobby's smile is charming and boyish.

Nora sends me a look with a slight shake of her head. Lifting my chin in question, she speaks, "Sorry. His manners leave little to be desired."

The jab causes Bobby's face to bloom red and his jaw snaps shut with an audible clack.

I recall the long forgotten debutante of a past life and manage to mind my manners, nibbling at the food and sipping at the coffee offered to me. I even manage to stop the groan of pleasure from escaping at the taste of the food. Except for the last bit of bread I toasted yesterday, this is the first I've had to eat. At some point I'm going to have to make it to the super market and restock the usual meager amount of food I keep in the pantry.

"So," Bobby breaks the easy silence that had settled over us, "how long have you been seeing each other?"

The question gets an immediate smack to the back of his head from Nora. "Bobby!" she barks his name.

He just grins. "Aw, come on, Nor. You know mom'll want to know."

"Breathe a word Robert Peter Delaney, and so help me, God…" she rumbles. I smirk at the ire in the invocation of his full name. Aggressive Nora isn't new to me, but I forgot how sexy it can be.

"Now, Nora, don't be like that," Bobby chides, "you carry on any more and you're liable to give your pretty lady the idea that she's good enough to share a bed with, but not to be introduced to your family."

His tease causes her to blanch and shake her head my way. "Nikki, that's not…Look mama's just…Our mom takes everything to the extreme. She'd be picking out China patterns the second she saw you."

Robert Peter Delaney snickers a little, but nods his agreement with Nora's assessment. I'm not shocked Nora's family is like that. Knowing what I do of her, it fits. I am shocked that she's reasoned her argument to imply that she's thought of making introductions to her family.

Admittedly, there was that whole birthday thing, but if I'm honest, we both knew that wasn't even an option or in the realm of happening.

"Nora," I say and try to reassure her with a smile, "I do get it. I may not have much family of my own anymore, but I do remember what a mother can be like."

Her brows knit together. It's the first instance where I've mentioned family or the possibility of one.

"You from around here?" Bobby asks breaking off the exchange between us.

I shake my head. "No, North Carolina," I lie with a smile, recalling the pieces of the cover story I've used for the last few years.

"Family must miss you," Bobby continues on oblivious. Nora's past attempts at knowing my history prevent her from pressing. She does not stop her brother from making similar inquiries though.

Relenting, I try for a vague politeness, "Not so much. My mom passed on a while back and my father and I've never really saw eye to eye."

He rubs at the back of his neck. "Sorry," he mumbles, "didn't mean to…"

I wave him off and smile. "No need to apologize. Some ask about family, it's only natural. I'm quite used to it." I feel Nora's hand slide across my thigh and give it a slight squeeze in support.

"Well, glad that you're here at least," Bobby says. The genuine note of gratitude does not go missed. The charming, politeness is another genetic trait I'm learning.

That or perhaps, it's a product of their parents influence in behavior.

"If you don't mind, how'd she pass on?" Nora asks boldly.

I resist the eye roll. Knowing that a good lie is better with peppered truths, I say, "Cervical cancer back in Ninety-two." Her lips purse and she nods.

"Must've been hard. We got family coming out our ears, so if you feel the need, I'm more than happy to loan out to you whenever you'd like." Bobby manages to break the tension with his joke.

"Ha!" Nora barks. "I wouldn't burden her like that." She side eyes me and informs, "I'd not wish them on my worst enemy."

"Hey, I'm not that bad. You like Kev and Kira enough," he reminds her.

"You're a pain. If I didn't promise daddy to look out for you heathens…"

"You'd be bored," Bobby cuts her off and grins.

I'm about to interrupt the sibling back and forth when the front door opens. We all look in the direction of the man sauntering through like he lives here.

"Partner!" the man from the first night I met Nora calls out. He's obviously been working out; the sweat drips down his brown, balled head and his chest glistens. His tank top is tucked into the waist band of loose-fitting, black, basketball shorts with the New Orleans Hornets logo on the right leg. He stops short at the small congregation we make at the table.

"You could knock, Harney," Nora grumbles from next to me.

He shrugs in apology. "Didn't expect you to have company," he says honestly. "Stopped by to see if you wanted to finish off the last few miles of my run with…"

Nora's glare shuts him up.

"Brother!" Bobby greets.

"How's it going, kid?" Dan asks Bobby. Dan seems to not take offence at the greeting.

"Good. Made a killing the last few days," Bobby answers.

"That candle I lit at mass last week must have paid off. Covering your half of the rent again was going to make us have a sit down with Mama D.," Dan chides with a smile. He turns the bright, white-toothed grin my way and nods. "Nikki, right? Good to see you again."

I expect more from him on our first and only introduction, but that's all. The ruffle of my feathers calm as I realize he's going to be as respectful as possible to Nora. "Right. Good to see you again as well."

"You two've met?" Bobby asks. "Dan, you've been holding out on your little brother?" And just like that it clicks; the man's a bit closer to Nora and her family than I originally thought. Nora's down play of 'coworker' was a tad misleading.

I let it go and cover Nora's hand on my thigh with my own. I suppose relaxing this morning won't be bad. She shoots me a small smile and I wink at her. I'll worry about everything else later.


	9. Uncharted Waters

**Uncharted**** Waters**

"Where's Kira?" Dan asks as soon as his door swings open.

No, 'Hi, partner. Thanks for bringing dinner.' Just an immediate question about my sister. I'd laugh if it wasn't so old.

But it really—pathetically, is.

The problem with Dan is that he's oblivious.

"She's coming," I say instead of the million and six different responses that want to whip from the tip of my tongue at his idiocy. "She needed to swing by her place and grab a few things." I push past him, leaving the drafty hallway for the kitchen so I can set our supper down. Cracking the top box open, its spicy aroma drifts out, causing my mouth to water for some of the best pizza to be found in my old, li'l city.

"Oh," Dan sighs and shuts the door as I look to the dish rack for three clean plates.

Unsurprisingly, there are none in the sink or the drying rack. Dan and Bobby have a strange synchronicity and obsession about keeping an orderly home. It's, in a word, immaculate. Finding this out about Dan didn't really surprise me, but Bobby…

He and Kevin could never keep their room clean.

Him moving in with Dan was something I expected to not go well. Actually, I figured one of 'em would have ended up in the hospital after the first month. It's been over a year and they've managed to produce far less drama than what I thought Dan capable. They fit well together as bachelor. Much like the mix-matched, well-worn furniture filling their home, there's the aged, brown leather sofa Bobby got as payment for playing a friend's graduation party, the hunter green recliner that has Dan's ass cheeks imprinted on it and the oak coffee table they picked up together at the River Road Flea Market one weekend when I needed a dresser.

I shrug off Dan's obvious disappointment and focus on plating the pizza, grabbing 3 clean plates from the cabinet to my right. I move about the kitchen like I live here. This place is like a second or third home to me, so it's not really a stretch. I've spent more than few nights sacked out on the couch a little too drunk to make it home by myself.

Dan makes himself useful and grabs three bottles of water to set on the coffee table. Just as I finish plating the food, the front door opens, signaling Kira's arrival. "Okay! I'm here," she announces her presence, the volume of it causes me to wince slightly.

Our family is anything but soft spoken.

My raised eyebrow the only reaction I give.

Dan, however, bounds the short distance of living room to entry way like the puppy he is. "'Bout time," he ribs her as she leans up, pecks his cheek, and takes the files in his her hands.

Kira's eyes cut to the plates I'm juggling and she groans, "Best. Sister. Ever." She takes the plate resting on my forearm, following Dan into the living room with me on her heels. Setting the plates down on the coffee table next to the files, Kira and I settle on the couch while Dan takes his chair.

"Food first, information second," my sister demands as she bites into her dinner.

"How about I cover some basics while you stuff your face?" I venture not terribly hungry due to my late lunch. She shrugs and continues to chew happily. "Got an I.D. back from our Jane Doe, Jamie Ramirez, age twenty, missing since Oh-seven. She was reported missing by her parents, George and Anita Ramirez of Albuquerque, New Mexico. She was fourteen when she disappeared."

"Shith," Kira hisses with a mouth full of food.

"Charlie was able to match the dentals pretty quick thanks to the N.C.M.E.C. Locals have notified the parents. Although, I'm not sure when or if they'll be coming to claim the body," I fill in after swallowing my own food.

"Wh' not?" Kira asks as she stands. "And anyone want more?"

"Bring the box back," Dan tells her and sips from his water.

"Don't think they have the funds too. We'll send her back one way or the other. In fact, it might be best if they didn't come here…" I pause reaching for a slice of pizza from the box Kira set on the table.

"True," Dan agrees. "We don't have much to offer them. And what we do…if it were my kid, I wouldn't want that as my last memories of her."

Kira's lips go thin and she nods.

"Tox screens came back, she'd been drinking a little, but there was enough snow in her system to drop a damn rhino. She was with at least four men before she died. Scarring told him that she's probably been in the business for about as long as she's been missing," I tell her, feeling the usual burn lick through my stomach.

She only nods at the information I gave her, but asks, "We get anything that looked like she might have had some friends? Place of residence?

Dan shakes his head. "No clue where she was living or if she was living with anyone. No one's come forward about missing her either…"

"So then 'no' to any friends or people that might be missing her," my sister fills in the blanks to her own questions. "The markers match?"

I nod. "The cocaine in her system matches the samples you've provided the lab. Slight variation from the batch, but it's from the same source."

Kira puts her plate down, wipes her hands along her jeans, and then runs her right hand through her messy blonde curls. "The net's pretty big on this operation. From what Cunningham has said, the major distributor is in Miami, but they boat stuff up our way, use us a port to go west…"

"Not easier to get up through Mexico and into Texas or California?" Dan asks.

"Nope. You'd think, but the Mexican police and the cartels that litter the boarder make sure that you funnel anything through their trade routes, you pay. It's cheaper for the primary supplier to go through Miami and handle distribution with alternate means."

"And no clue on who it is we're looking for?" I ask again. I was irked when they couldn't put a face and name to the person that they're going after.

Of all the half assed, bullshit…

"No. That's the whole point. The few people they've managed to snare that work for them…never seen the distributor and no names were given," Kira tries to explain again.

"Right, just 'the distributor'," I snip back.

She purses her lips at me. It's a look she developed as a baby when I'd take her toys. It's gotten the same reaction from me, a firm eye roll and dismal, every time she's tried it.

"Now, that Nora's caught you up on all the facts, I have some interesting pieces of information that I'd like to share with you." He leans back in his chair, resting his palms flat on the arms. "Sent a query over to a buddy of mine at the D.O.J…"

"You have friends?" I ask, smiling.

"We dated for a week." Dan shrugs me off and carry's on, "She works at the Human Smuggling Trafficking Center. Our vic was in the business. When we got her I.D. back I got curious…"

"You think she was nabbed and put to work?" Kira asks beginning to pick up our thought process.

"Makes sense," he shrugs. "She sent over some files of interest. A couple of dossier's that we should look at more closely."

I reach out to the files my partner's talking about and hand them to Kira.

"I guess I have some catching up to do. Just how does this impact our case though?" she wonders absently as she flips through the top folder.

"Dunno," I fill in. "Just seems like a loose thread. How Jamie ended up here, when, who brought her? They may not all be interrelated, but I just don't think they're completely separate either."

She nods at my words and bites her lower lip. "It's worth looking at." She worries her lip a bit more before sitting up and tossing the file on the coffee table. "Let's get started then. We've got some time lines to build. We can exclude the first two of my vics that pulled me into this case. They were habitual users and have various, unsavory ties to the community."

"She's the first that seems out of left field?" Dan wonders.

Kira nods. "As sick as it sounds, she might just prove to crack the case."

"I'll need to leave before eleven," I state before we get started. I refuse to be late picking up Nikki.

"Yeah, she's got to pick up her new squeeze," Dan teases.

Ass.

Why I bother telling him anything…

"Oh, who is she? What she like? When am I going to meet her?" Kira hops a little in her seat at the rapid fire questions.

I shake my head, rolling my eyes in the process. "No, no, no…" I start in.

"Nora," she starts to whine.

"No." I cut her off.

Or try to. "Why do you always do this? It's not like we're going to break out the photos of you in middle school. But if you like her…and you obviously do, 'cause you haven't mentioned anything and you're not telling me anything but 'no'. We all know what that means." Her voice gets a little higher the longer she talks, much like when she was eight and realized that her whining in that tone got us all to give her what she wanted so we didn't have to hear it anymore.

This time though…

"It's not serious," I tell her.

"Bullshit," Dan and her say at the same time.

My partner's jaw works as he thinks something through. "She's a stripper."

"Shut your fucking mouth, Harney," I warn, with enough venom to get my intent clear.

"No." He folds his arms over his chest and rocks back in his chair. "I can't tell if you're protective of her 'cause you're falling for her or you're embarrassed about her."

"I will shoot you." I don't want to get into this.

"Sis," Kira tries a softer approach, her left hand squeezes my right thigh. I cut a gaze in her direction to see her come to a conclusion. "She likes her."

"Shut it." I take her hand off my thigh and toss it in her lap.

"You've gotten this way about only two people, Michelle and Katy. We only knew Michelle long enough to say she was a manipulative witch, but Katy…I swear mom and dad took your split harder than you," Kira reminds me.

"Look," I grind out, "regardless of history, Nikki and I very clear about what we are and are not. Since we are clear it's not serious, introducing her to any of you won't be happening." I direct my gaze to Dan and stab a finger at him. "And you, Daniel Michael Harney, need to shut the fuck up about things you don't understand. You may be shallow enough to feel embarrassment about someone's line of work. I'm not. It's her choice."

"Okay," Kira puts her hands up between me and my partner, "no fighting tonight. We've got other work to focus on and I'll make sure you get out of here in time to pick your friend."

* * *

"Hey," I greet Geno as I walk up to the back of the club. Him and another bouncer watch over the back parking lot. Nikki said they do it every night as the place is shut down. Nikki said they're one of the only clubs she's worked where the manager's decent enough to make sure the women he employs are safe when they leave.

"Nora, right?" he smiles at me and gives a small nod to the other guy who moves along down the building to start a short patrol down the back alley.

"Yep," I say and stuff my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Nik's just finishing up. Quiet night." He looks me over, trying to figure out what, I'm not sure. Considering we're almost eye level it's a little comical.

I bob my head. "She said as much in the text I got earlier."

"Hmm," he hums. "You're the first that Nikki's done this with, you know. I hope…"

I hold a hand up to stop him. "She said you were a good guy. I get it."

He ducks his head, but says, "It's pretty cool of you, though. She's a good woman. Messed up a bit, but…"

"Aren't we all?" I respond with a need to defend her.

"That's not what I meant," he stops and licks his lips. "I've seen a few come and go, try to date some of my girls. All of 'em end up getting tossed on their ear inside the first week. They step in here," he hooks a thumb over his shoulder towards the bar, "acting like they own it. You've been in and out of here a dozen times and you're just as respectful and patient as you would be if she did some bullshit office job."

He shrugs, scans the parking lot, and finishes, "It's good for her. Good to know that people are capable of it."

"Capable of what?" Nikki asks as she steps from the door to our left.

We both shake our head in response to the question.

Geno grunts and looks back at me. "Have a good night, Nora."

I dip my chin in understanding, then watch him walk off towards the other end of the lot for a quick sweep.

Nikki's smile is still questioning, but I grin at her, trying to stop anything further being asked about the interrupted conversation. I don't think Geno would like Nikki knowing I just got the equivalent of a 'hurt her and you'll be sorry' speech from her boss.

"Hey, sug," she purrs molding her front to mine. I pucker up accepting the kiss being offered. Her hands fist the opposite sides of my jacket as she pulls me closer to deepen the kiss.

I stop her though, pull back a little and explain, "As much fun as P.D.A. can be with you, I'd like to get us home. More fun things to do. Clothing is entirely your choice though."

"Hmm," she hums as she releases me. "I like the way you think."

I lace her left hand with my right to lead her towards my car when another pulls right up behind my El Camino.

Nikki's hand slips free from mine and she says, "Give me a second."

Curious, my head tilts to the side as I watch her approach the lank, black man exiting the car. They're far enough way that I can't make out what they're saying, but Nikki's posture tells me she's familiar with him.

The hug they share makes me wonder how familiar they are.

Maybe it's best if I just not know. Rolling my shoulders, I get to my car and pull the door open. The interior is warm and chases the slight chill of the night air away. My fingers drum along the steering wheel as I cast a look in my rearview mirror.

I'm usually pretty good about most things. Especially when I'm off duty.

What I see happen in the mirror makes me sick.

Nikki and Darius are huddled close enough together to think they're lovers having an exchange. And they may not be lovers, the envelop she passes him as he slips a crumpled paper bag in her purse is most definitely an exchange.

My jaw clenches as I come to the conclusions being presented to me.

I watch her lean over and peck his cheek before spinning on her three inch heels to head my way. I let her slip in the car and buckle up. The pads of my fingers drum along the steering wheel as I make very short work of the distance between her place and the club.

As I pull in front of her duplex, she asks, "Nora?"

The entire car ride was silent. I'm sure she knows something's not right.

"Something happen?" She slips the safety belt free and slides to the center of the bench seat. I shy away from her touch and press against the door.

"I don't think I should come up tonight," I tell her. The first words I've spoken since the parking lot.

"What? Nora, don't be silly," she tries.

"Look in the glove compartment," I tell her, my voice lower and scratchier than I'd like. I had planned to tell her, eventually, when it seemed like the right time, but now…

I hear the latch release on the compartment and the routine sliding of my gun tumbling out. She catches it in her hands, her reflexes cat quick.

"You…" she trails off looking at the item in her hand and then at me.

"I'm a cop. Didn't think it would be a huge deal when I told you, it's not something I tell people I'm dating casually. It either scares them off or they get too curious and I get uncomfortable," I try to explain. "But I saw you, with him," the accusation, clear. "I'm usually pretty good at looking the other way if I'm off duty, especially if it's little stuff, but Nikki…" I lick my lips and finally look at her.

Her face is blank. I'm sure if I could have more time with her, get to know her a bit more, she'd have a tell. Right now, I can't tell if she's pissed or scared or indifferent.

I need her to understand though, "I can't look the other way with what I saw though." I never really thought to consider her using. It just seemed…

Silly and out of character for her.

But…

I've seen exchanges like that more than I can count.

"I won't." I tell her as I twist my hands around the steering wheel.

She says nothing as she stuffs the gun back in the glove box and slams it closed. She doesn't look back as she throws herself from the car and scurries up to her apartment.

I wait, watching until I see a light come on in her apartment. Then I lash out, cracking my fist against the hard dash of my baby. The first burns and numbs. The second is a little wet and very painful, but satisfying.

Just fuck me.


	10. Injection

**Ch. 10 – Injection**

"Shift starts soon," Darius reminds me. Like he needs to. Like I don't know when the fuck I'm needed inside.

I roll my eyes at him instead. "Hmm," I tut. "Still haven't figured out what we're going to do."

"You do know how to pick'em, Nikki." He shakes his head and the beads in his hair click together.

"Ain't that the truth," I mumble and pick at the skin along the side of my thumb. It's already irritated, red and a little bloody from the last twelve hours of nervous, annoyed worry.

"Well, you know what I'd li…" he tries not for the first time in the last few hours. I shut him down the first time. I'll shut him down every single time. We don't need the blood of a cop on our hands.

I couldn't…wouldn't…even if…Not her.

"Shut your mouth, Darius. That hasn't ever been and will never be an option. Especially with her." I snap at him as my hand clamps over his shoulder and I dig my nails into his flesh.

"She's done a number on you. Can't believe a little blonde, you've known a month or two's went gotten under that 'gator skin of yours." His eyes narrow at me; his tone, dark and prodding.

"What the fuck do you expect me to say? Huh, Darius?" I snap back at him, lashing out by shoving him against the door. "What the fuck makes you think I went looking for this shit?" I shove him again, harder this time. "I sure as shit didn't want it. We don't need it. We're so close to getting out and walking away I can fucking taste it!" I shove him again. "So don't fucking sit here and patronize me like a love struck school girl, you dick!"

He takes my abuse; his jaw shut tight, muscle corded under dark skin. "Well, we've been doing this too long to get cold feet. We're a few days out…"

I nod, biting back the sickness rising in the back of my throat.

"We could cut bait and keep on, keepin' on," he suggests grudgingly.

I glare.

"Then we stick to it. The plan is still The Plan," he states sobering up. "I'll say this, if you're protecting her, if you think she even got a whiff of what we're about...if you think she's been playin' you and you aren't sayin' anything to me about it…So help me, Nikki…"

I bite my lip. Shake my head. I don't think so—didn't seem like it when she told me.

But, I still can't answer him. I don't know for sure and can't trust myself.

That was the worst thing about last night. Was she playing me? Has she been using me for something job related and getting a little of that itch scratched on the side?

Was anything more to her than something she was doing for her job?

I hate to admit it, but that idea hurts the worst out of all'em.

She said all the right things, was kind, gentle when she needed to be, when she knew I needed kid glove treatment.

Was it all an act?

If it was, "She'd deserve an Oscar if she was playing me," I tell him finally, unable to voice anything else or admit there's a chance he may be right.

It hurts too much to think about it and what it may mean if he is. Too may sacrifices have been made over the last few years to stop all this now.

Maybe if it were just me, maybe if it was just me put in the crosshairs, I'd indulge. That's not the case. More's riding on this than just my life and…

Darius and I…

We were blood in and we are blood out.

Our lives have become so interconnected that when this is all over, the idea of him not being around is ludicrous. We'll go wherever we go, but it'll be together.

So, how do I fix this? I can't trust myself, but…

"You'll have to meet her," I say, a plan forming quickly.

"What?" his question dripping with the same 'what are you on?' tone that I get from him when I come up with my truly crazy ideas.

"It's the only way to be sure. I introduce you to her, you get a read on her and we go from there," I explain to him. "Look," I lick my lips, sure that this will work, "you'll be more objective here. If she's gaming us, you'll know. If it's bad, we'll talk, options, 'cause it means…"

He nods. "And if she passes?"

I shrug. "We pretend like we never met and I go off and lick my wounds with you somewhere far away from here."

He softens, just a fraction at that.

I'm not stupid. We're playing a type of roulette that ends in only two ways; both endings do not contain a horseback ride into the setting sun with a lover.

"Okay," is his concession.

I straighten myself; start to gather my purse and gym bag. I push the door open and slip out. His hand reaches out, offering me my bags. As I take them, his now free hand closes down on my wrist and he pulls my tip half into the cabin. "Tell me this, Nikki," he's quiet and I have to strain to make out his words, but once I do… "If she was just some girl, some random chick that worked at an office somewhere, when we were finally done, and all this was put to bed, what did you plan to do? Where were you gonna go?"

"Does it matter? What was is not what is and what is is a shit pile that I need to dig us out of now," I snap back at him.

"I think it does," he retorts, his normally dark eyes are near black right now, shining in the late afternoon sun. His lips are pressed together and grim.

I can't answer that question.

He deserves an answer I can't give him.

Instead, I wrench my arm away from him and slam the door to my car closed. I turn my back and march towards the rear entrance of club. The squeal of my tires covering up the vicious sound of the back door slamming against the concrete as I wrench it open.

The girl's that are in the back room by the vanity tables and prep area turn their head to look my way. "Mind your own fucking business!" I snap, marching straight to a private dressing room.

There's a girl in there getting ready. I toss my bags on the small couch before grabbing her around the arm and tossing her into the hallway.

"Wait, my…" she protests, shocked and flustered.

I locate the rest of her outfit and fling it towards her before slamming the door and locking it.

Spinning around, I survey the room to only be faced with my reflection against the large mirror against the back wall. The can of hairspray is snatched from the dresser. I wind up and let it rip, satisfied by the sound of shattering glass and my lack of reflection.

Looking at nothing is better than any other view the room can offer.

* * *

I can't remember which etiquette class I was at where they insisted that fidgeting wasn't something a proper lady did. The words come to me so easy, "A lady does not fidget, her hands stay folded in her lap properly. If there's a drink in hand, the other is to remain in your lap. Back straight, shoulders squared. You must look poised at all times." The rest of it's fuzzy, but I remember that.

Mostly because, right now, it's all I want to do.

Darius and I are so close to finishing this. One more dog and pony show and we're done. We can get out of Dodge, hell we can disappear forever.

We just need to make it through this.

Paula Connolly is also a woman I think would be disaster to cross. She reminds me of a family acquaintance from my other life. Perfectly poised in every way, but she's got eyes and ears in places that make her dangerous.

I pull a large lungful of air in and let it out slowly. This meeting's going to be the death of me.

"Hey," Geno grunt-whispers next to me, "where is sh…"

The door to her study opens and the woman in question breezes through with the ever present "assistants" hot on her heels. Most assistants don't carry concealed or look like bouncers. "I apologize for my tardiness," Paula says, sounding not the least bit apologetic. "My previous meeting ran a little bit longer than I was anticipating."

Anticipating Geno's gruff response, I shush him with a well-placed hand on his knee and a smile for our host. "No trouble at all. They made sure we had things," I hold up my coffee cup for example, "to keep us occupied. Is everything okay?" I ask out of pure politeness.

She waves me off with a smile and well-practiced shrug. "Right as rain. There were just some additional needs that needed attended to we weren't anticipating." She clasps her hands together and declares, "Enough about that. Let's focus on what we're here for. I can't tell you how excited I am. Scott was saying that you'll be the ones to get everything sorted. Rusty's been looking to branch out, or so that's the rumors that have been whispered into my ear."

"Rusty is," Geno confirms. "We're here for him and to move more product."

I shoot him a look. Why is he talking? He came in as a stand in for Darius. My partner had some last minute things to see too.

"Expand I think, is what Rusty wants to do," I step into the conversation.

She looks up from the cup of tea that she was fixing for herself and a small, amused smile flits over her face. Straightening, she brings the cup with her and sips at the steaming brew. "Interesting, expansion. I don't think I've ever quite..." She trails off before rolling her shoulders and tilting her head at me. "I suppose that's all we really are though, right dear?"

"We are what?" I question not sure where she's going with this.

"It's all business after a fashion. 'Product,'" she clarifies.

I lift my right shoulder in a half shrug. "We all have to earn a living," I hear myself say, the words my father spoke so long ago coming forward, "We are facilitators of commerce. There are needs that need to be met and we help get those needs met."

She smiles, bright, wide, approvingly. "So true. It's just rare that I meet another soul, another woman, who understands that so easily."

I return her smile and say as easily as I can, "Well, it was one of the few lessons my daddy taught me. That, and that if pressed, I could sell snow to Eskimos."

"Your father was in the business, child?" she wonders and crosses her legs.

"In a fashion. He was also involved in local politics so he knew how to play many a game. Moving product that we wish to keep discrete was just one of his many side projects," I answer, this time providing a completely honest response. It's been so long since I've given one of those when it comes to family; the reply cloys to my tongue, leaving a slightly bitter after taste.

"Hmm," she hums, "Well, it was sage advice to pass down to his daughter. Tell him he should be proud." She nods and sips her drink once more before setting it down on the saucer and placing it on the coffee table between us. "Then let's move this along, shall we? I'm sure there are things you two would rather be doing today than prattling on with me about our work." She tilts her head to the bright blue sky beyond the window. "Too much of a lovely day to be cooped up here."

"Of course," I say. I reach into my purse and pull the small vial from it. "Would you like to sample?" I offer.

She shakes her head. "Scott was quite clear on what he wanted and he sampled it quite a bit. Those arrangements have all been finalized. Rusty said that you two would want to review his merchandise before finalizing payment."

I try to mask my surprise. I look over at Geno and he smiles. It's small, uncertain. Something neither of us need right now. "My boss said that I'd need to look it over, but that he'd trust my opinion." Beads of sweat pop up along Geno's hairline. This isn't his usual world.

I have to feel bad for him a bit, here. So I step in and try to cover for him, "We may want to sample. I'm sure you can understand. Quality is important for these sorts of things."

"Of course," she says and stands. Going to the window, she draws the blinds and spins back to one of her assistants. "Bring two," she directs and the blonde one slips through the door. "I'll have you know," she says as she sits down across from us once again, "That I'm very excited about this. Expanding Rusty's business in such a way..." She trails off and crosses her legs, lacing her hands together over her top knee. "I just think that he's going to enjoy the returns he gets out of this. I know the initial overhead can be a bit much, but it really is recouped inside a month or two."

"Hmm," I hum a non-committal agreement.

"I'll give you a bit of advice here. Maintenance. You have to keep them maintained. I have a few people I go to to keep mine in pristine condition. I'll make sure you get the contact information of the physician and groomers I use," she says proudly.

As I open my mouth to clarify, two young children step through the partially open door followed by her assistant.

"Briefly, I'll be supplying a half dozen like these two here." I watch as she stands and steps behind the kids. "This is Tommy and Marisa." Her hands go on a shoulder of each child. "The others will range in age from eleven to fifteen. Three boys, three girls. The one-hundred-fifty k can be deposited into an account, whose numbers I will provide to you."

She nudges the children closer to Geno and me. I'm not sure what to do, so I offer them a little nod as I try to get passed the buzzing in my ears.

"Rusty didn't seem too particular on race. So I'm assuming mixed is okay?" she asks resuming her seat from across us. When no answer is forth coming, she takes it as agreement. "Lovely. Why don't I leave the four of you to get better acquainted? Sample my product."

She moves to stand, when everything appears to slow. The door way is pushed open. A body is shoved through, knocking the boy into the end table and the little girl into Geno. I barely register the body of the person struggling to get up near my feet as I hear, "Found this one outside."

I look down and see Nora blinking back up at me. Her left eye puffy and bruised. Horror scrawled across her face.


	11. Boom of a Beating Heart

**Ch. 11 – Boom of a Beating Heart****  
**

I wince, looking up to meet Nikki's gaze.

I have no time to read her. A sharp kick lands across my left flank. Fire ignites along my rib cage as the crack of bone echoes inside my head.

Just fuck.

My head drops, causing my forehead to press against the thick oriental carpet. Tears well up and leak out of the corner of my eyes. Through the roar of blood in my ears I hear Nikki speak, "What are you doing here?" I feel her bend down to me and a strong hand grip my chin to pull my head up off the ground.

Blinking, I clear the watery vision of her and focus on her eyes. Deep, brown eyes that until a day ago I was falling for.

"You know her?" another voice asks from above me. Paula. She's the only other woman in the room.

Nikki squeezes my chin before letting it drop back to the floor as she stands. The burn along my side as I pull in a shaky breath causes another round of tears. They well and slide down the bridge of my nose to drop on the carpet.

"She..." Nikki pauses before she answers with an assuredness I've never heard. "Unfortunately, we've been seeing each other over the past month or two." I feel a shoe press into my shoulder. It forces me up and turns me onto my back. The chandelier is bright and sends a weird pattern of light across the ceiling. "We broke it off the other day." Her toe nudges my left temple, forcing my eyes to fall on the woman I came here to actually speak to.

Paula's arms are fold across her chest. She looks down at me. Her pinched face holds only wariness and anger. She'd be pretty if I didn't she was a complete and utter psychopath and monster. Her blonde hair is pulled back in a French roll. With her high cheekbones and thin lips, she reminds of a character from one of those bad after school movies of a disapproving principal chastising her students.

"She more than likely followed me here," Nikki explains. "A jealous piece of ass that didn't know when she'd served her purpose."

Paula clucks her tongue.

"Really should have known better," Nikki continues, "I'm sorry about this. I didn't count a pathetic piece of trash to follow me around like the lost, little bitch she clearly is." My teeth grind together as breathe through the pain.

"Hmm," the other woman hums. Snapping her fingers, I look over towards the entrance as her two men stalk towards me, shoving one of the kids out of their way. They hoist me up by my underarms and begin to pat me down. The gun they easily find hidden under my jacket, but holstered to my right side. They fish the keys to my car out of my jacket and lay those on the coffee table next to my gun.

"That's a police issued SIG, ma'am," one of the no-necks speaks up.

"Car?" Paula demands an answer.

"The El Camino," Nikki answers for me. My eyes screw shut as I'm spun around to face my...well, I'm not sure what she is, but Nikki looks me over. This time her concern isn't concealed. "Where'd you get the gun?"

I shake my head. No clue what she's doing or how she's trying to play this. Her blow lands across my injured cheek.

My ears ring, a fresh round of tears sting my eyes. I try to lift a hand to defend myself, but she stops me. The hand that just struck me clamps over my mouth.

"Go search her car," Paula barks behind me.

Nikki gives a minute shake of her head, pressing harder against my mouth. The nails of her left hand dig into my bicep.

I'm screwed. So screwed. Footfalls retreat and the front door opens and shuts.

"You two go back to your room," Paula barks at the kids.

Those poor kids.

I watch as they scurry away, unfazed by the violence they've just witnessed.

"Sit down," Nikki shoves me into one of the chairs near the couch. "I can't believe you!" she rants and steps in front of me. I watch her hand raise and swing down. The sting and ache across my injured cheek blossoms and spreads to my jaw. The taste of copper wells in my mouth. "Why I shouldn't..." she trails off as Geno grabs her wrist and lowers her hand.

"We'll take care of her soon enough," he grunts from Nikki's right.

My head drops to my chest as I swallow the mouthful of blood. I probe the inside of my cheek with my tongue and feel the jagged flesh where my teeth cut in.

It's really the least of my concerns. If they find my badge, we're screwed. I focus on shallow, short breaths to prevent the pain from igniting another fire along my rib cage. I know at least one rib's broke. Maybe a few more are cracked. That bitch kicks hard.

Nikki...who knew she could hit like that? I'd try and be upset, but given the circumstances…, I'm happy she didn't rat me out.

Why didn't she...?

She didn't tell them I was a cop. She played it off.

The thought floats through my mind. I would have thought...

"Boss," one of the goons speaks up from the doorway. I raise my head and look at him. The metal in his hand shines against the light of the room.

I look to Nikki. Her eyes are wide, lips slightly parted. She shakes her head at Paula, but...

"You knew?" the woman asks and the half second delay in the shake of Nikki's head is enough to condemn us all.

* * *

"Holy fucking hell," Geno wretches across from us. The cargo area reeks of bile and sick. All from the man who's spitting up whatever's left in his stomach. Another round of gagging sounds bounce off the steel walls as we bounce down a road to God knows where. Some place remote, out of the way. Someplace it will take days for anyone to find our bodies.

Just fuck.

"How's your head?" Nikki rasps from next to me. I turn to her, as much as I'm able, but my arms prevent me turning to her as much as I'd like. We're all cuffed to a bar running along the top of the van. Geno's on the one opposite us, trying to muster up the last, little bit of dignity he has left. Nikki's head rests on her bicep as she looks me over.

I give a shrug. "Side hurts worse," I admit as we hit a bump in the road and a thousand hot pokers pierce my side.

"What the fuck?" Geno snaps from his bench. I watch Nikki direct her attention to him and I follow suit. "Just what the fuck, Nikki?" His face is ashen, eyes wide and fearful. "Kids! Those were fucking kids! And," he licks his lips and then presses them together. His eyes screw shut again and he grits out, "You two were fucking talking about those kids like they were fucking pieces of..." he stalls on the words.

"Me?" she responds, her voice cracking on the two letter word. "You were the one that was going through Rusty in all of this! He was the one that sent you to close that! Not me. I wasn't there…didn't know…oh, God," she whimpers the plea to a creator I don't think any one of us believe in.

"I didn't know!" he shouts, the boom of his voice echoing off our metal cage. "You think, I'd...?" Tears cause his eyes to shine. "I swear to God if we make it out of this, I'm going to hunt the sunuvabitch down and cut of his balls. I'll chop him up and take him out to the swamp. I swear to God…"

"Don't..." Nikki starts in.

I cut her off, "He didn't know." I defend her boss. "At least, given his reaction, I don't think he knew."

"Doesn't matter, Nora. God or anyone else for that matter isn't going to help us. And just what in the fuck were you...?" Nikki asks me. "Why were you following me?"

"I wasn't." I answer quickly. "I was there to question your friend."

"She is not my friend," Nikki clarifies immediately, her face souring at the thought.

"Well, she's also being watched by us and the F.B.I. I was there to question her about a case I'm working," I explain not wanting to give too much information.

"So let me line all this up in my head," she says slowly, "You," she motions towards Geno, "didn't know your boss wanted you to purchase..." she stalls on the words, "Rusty wants..." The color drains from her face, but it's her counterpart that manages the dry heaves.

"Wait..." I interrupt the two 'hard asses', "you weren't there to 'buy' those kids?"

"I may be a lot of things, sugga, a…pedophile," she chokes on the words, "I'd just as sooner eat a bullet before touching a…"

"I get it," I say, knowing that at least that much about her I can trust. "Then why…?"

"Don't say anything," Geno huffs.

"What is she going to do, Geno? Haul us in? You think we're getting out of this alive?" Her tone drives a biting pain through my chest. "I was there to sell dope."

"What?" I ask dumbly, trying to wrap my head around the sequence of events. I figure if I'm going to die, I'd really like to know why.

"Biggest, goddamn cluster fuck I've ever been a part of," Nikki bumbles.

"Nikki! How about you start from the beginning?" I try for more information.

"I was there to sale dope, Nora. What more do you want to fucking know?" She rolls her eyes at my silence and snips, "I sale coke mostly. Weed, maybe some meth if people are hard up for it, but the shits the cockroach of drugs so…" She shakes her head at me and tries to turn the table. "So what investigation were you there for? Did you know she was trying to sell half a dozen—"

Her lips press together. "If I get out of this…" she bites out. "I'm going to take a fucking torch to everything she is."

"I work for Special Crimes," I answer her quietly. "I was pulled into a task force that was supposed to be working on a major trafficking bust, but…" I stop myself, still completely floored by the way things are turning out. "A girl was found, dead by the lake. We traced her back to New Mexico. From there it led me and my partner…"

"Dan?" Nikki questions.

I nod the reply and continue to explain, "Dan and I started digging and found that the trafficking wasn't only drugs. Kids. Hundreds of them yearly. The feds had an idea, but no link."

"What girl?" Nikki stops me.

"What?" I rest my aching head against my forearm, but realize it's a horrible idea when the van starts to spin.

"The girl—you said you found a body, a girl. Who was she?" Nikki presses me as her face finally stops swimming.

"Jamie Ramierez," I answer slowly, trying to bite down the bile that rises in the back of my throat.

"Nora, what did she look like?" Nikki's insistence pulls me from my nausea. Her knee presses against my thigh. It helps.

I focus on answering her question. "Young, blonde, had a tattoo on her left arm."

"Half sleeve, on her left?" Nikki digs.

"Yeah," I breath out.

"I knew her," Nikki tells us.

"She was part of the ring. Kidnapped when she was young…" I explain and try short even breaths.

"Lacey? Are you talking about Lacey?" Geno speaks up.

I manage to see the two communicate with a nod from Nikki and Geno gets sick again, dry heaving off to the side because there's nothing left in his stomach.

I want to ask more questions, but the van starts to slow down and finally comes to a stop. The three of us straighten up and wait as two doors open and shut. The back doors click open and the two guys that work for Paula fill the space. One's gun is drawn pointing at me while the other crouches and steps inside to undo our cuffs.

I'm first. His hands are rough and grip tight as he undoes the cuff from my left hand, slips it free from around the bar, and quickly claps it back over my wrist. "Stay," he commands as he does the same to Nikki and then Geno.

We're led from the van in a single line. The most I can tell from our surroundings is that I can't see the street we came from. Warehouse buildings surround us as we're led through a rusting steel door set off to the side of the building closest to us.

Once inside, I notice a set of steps that lead to the upper level of our building and a set of double doors along the back wall of the small space we're in.

"Take her to the back, boss wants a word." The baldheaded goon says, shoving me into his partner's chest. "Hurry up," he barks at our retreating backs.

I try to look back; to see them before we leave, but a firm shove towards the doors sends me sprawling forward. My arms stop me from face planting into the concrete floor. A kick sends me further along, scurrying through them and down the hall.


	12. The Grave If I Must

**Ch. 12 – The Grave If I Must**

* * *

I can handle this.

I can handle this.

I hear Nora's faint whimper echo from behind the doors swinging closed.

The rapid thump of my heart stutters briefly then picks up a faster beat.

I read this book a while a back about how in high pressure situations time sort of slows down, and you hear about it, eye witness accounts and all. It seems trumped up.

I get it now. I blink and it feels like an eternity between each flutter of my eyelids.

I need to get us out of here.

I need to try to get us of out of here.

We're going one way and Nora's going another.

The reality of what is actually happening sinks in and I drop to my knees. They crack against the concrete.

"Nikki!" Geno shouts, but I can't really respond. There's movement, indistinct and fuzzy on the periphery of my tunneling scope of site.

Cooler heads need to prevail.

I am not it.

I see black, shiny oxfords step in front of me. Cold metal presses against my forehead and forces my head back. I blink, looking up past the gun pressed to my forehead to the impassive face of one of our captors. "Get up."

I can't move. Rooted to the spot, I remain silent.

"Get up," he says again. "Get up or I kill you here and make your friend clean up your corpse." His voice is flat, like he's telling me the time or the next steps from an instructional manual.

"Nikki," Geno whimpers from beside me. "Get up, kid."

I swallow and nod. Gathering myself, I hoist myself up, the muzzle of the gun still presses against my skin in reminder of what's at stake.

I can do this.

I have to do this.

There's no 'not doing this'.

"I'm good," I croak and the gun drops. Looking at Geno, I give him a nod. The other goon is back, watching us. His gun's resting at his side, but his finger's wrapped around the trigger, ready to shoot at the first sign of rebellion.

I don't know how I'm going to get us out of this.

Geno's grey, sickly. He's not going to be much help.

"Move," the one in front of me directs. He motions towards the stairs. We fall in a single line. Me, one goon, Geno and the last one, the one that took Nora away, bringing up the rear.

Slowly, I start climbing. Fumbling mid-way, as my foot catches on the lip of a step. I catch myself on the edge and an idea hits.

It's crazy. Bad. Dangerous. Bad. More than likely will get all of us killed, but…

We're going to die anyhow. Darius was tying up some lose ends on plans for next week. I doubt anyone in Nora's group knows where she's at.

No cavalry is coming.

I cast a glance back as I right myself. There's really only one shot at this. I'm outweighed by a hundred pounds on each guy. I've got two things working in my favor: leverage and surprise.

There are two steps separating me and one of the ones with a gun. I take a deep breath, steady myself, and whip around. I kick with my right leg. The ball of my right foot hitting right under the knee cap. The crunch is sickening. The wail of pain nearly causes me to vomit.

Before he drops, I launch myself down the steps. I shove Geno out of the way as the muzzle of the second guy's gun rises. Reaching out, I push it up as I drive my shoulder into his midsection, propelling us backwards.

I know before we start our decent this is going to hurt. It's going to hurt a lot. I push us backwards anyhow. His arms pinwheel and I drive us down the steps. We tumble. He grapples for purchase. I twist and launch off the last few steps so we go airborne. Hitting the concrete landing, pain rips up my arm. I feel things snap. I hear them amongst the banging of limbs and feet and screams.

The impact drives the wind from my lungs. They burn. My eyes water. But the crunch at my ear deafens everything else. We settle and I wait for a blow. Anything, to let me know the man below me is moving and pissed off.

There's nothing. I can't tell if the beating heart I hear is mine or his or ours combined.

Slowly, I roll off him. Twist left and land with a soft thump against the concrete. I blink and look at the man I tackled. His head's twisted at an odd angle, up and to the right. It's unnatural and I look away.

"Kid!" Geno shouts from somewhere. I pick my head up and look around. He's dragging the other guy behind him, with every thump of the body; a cry of pain is its accompaniment.

Sitting up, I look at my feet and travel up. Everything looks good. Nothing broken, no blood that I can see.

Until I reach my still cuffed hands. My right wrist is twisted off to the side, purple and swelling. I try to lift my right arm, but it doesn't budge. I look down and my vision swims. There's an odd protrusion at my shoulder. The bone presses against the unbroken skin in an odd way.

"Don't move," Geno barks. He lands next to me and eases me back down on the concrete.

"The…" I try to warn him of the other guy.

He shakes his head. "Passed out, but you ain't and have a dislocated shoulder. You dumb bitch. What the hell were you thinking?"

I try to open my mouth to protest. He shakes his head shutting me up. I numbly watch as he goes to the man I just killed and searches him. He pulls a key ring and cell phone from the dead man's pockets. With shaky hands, he manages to undo his own cuffs and then comes to me.

Dropping to his knees, he gently takes my linked wrists and undoes the metal around them. As soon as the binding around my right wrist is free, pain surges through the damaged part. It thrums and thumps, pinching and burning in ways I didn't think were possible.

"Oh, Jesus fucking Christ," I whimper and blink back the tears.

"We're gonna hafta stabilize that," he says, standing and goes back to the dead guy. He rips at his shirt, tearing a few strips of cloth free from the now tattered white, button-up.

I only cry once as Geno kneels back in front of me, loosely wrapping my wrist and then fashioning a sling for my arm. The support helps quiet the throbbing, near blinding pain.

I feel my breath start to regulate and he looks over his handiwork. "It'll have to do."

"Nora," I grit out as I stand. "We need to get to her. They'll…"

The look on his face stops me. His words chill me, "We'll end up in jail or worse, Nikki. We need to go."

I shake my head. "I'm not leaving her." I step towards the man whose knee I broke and cuff him to the banister and tuck the extra set in my back pocket. A gun, whose I don't know, is off to the left on the bottom step. I heft it in my left hand and flick the safety off. "You go. Get out of here. Call Darius and then call the police department, ask for Dan, Nora Delaney's partner. That should be enough," I wince and suck in a breath, staving off a fresh wave of pain as Geno hands me the keys to the cuffs.

"Nikki, jail. They'll…" he starts to protest.

"I'm. Not. Leaving. Her," I grit out between clenched teeth. "Go. Disappear Geno. My locker. There's a small bag. Ten grand in it. Take it and run."

"Nikki…" he tries again.

"That should get you to Cuba and then some. It's great about this time of year," I tell him, cutting off his protests. Kissing his stubbly cheek, I shove him with the butt of the gun. "Go. Make those calls though. We'll be fine."

His lips part. He works his jaw and then spins on his heel, taking off in a run towards safety.

Well, as much as being on the run from rapists and dealers can afford.

* * *

As soon as the door swings shut, I take off towards the back of the building. Barren walls are the only thing to look at. They're cold, grey and sort of remind me of this catacomb Darius took me into when we first got to the city.

This space feels just as dead as where actual bodies lay.

My arm throbs, my right wrist is distorted and ugly, and sweat drips from my hairline and down the nape of my neck. It trickles along my spine and cools.

I don't really know where I'm going, but every door I've hit has been open and the rooms empty. Of course having a plan for when I actually find them would be great. It's not like I planned any of this.

It was more, blind panic and rage. The panic's pretty much gone.

The rage…

That—that's still burning white hot. When I get back into town, I swear I'm going to obliterate everything Paula Connolly ever was, is, or ever could be. I know I'm not innocent. There are lines though.

Until today, I've never taken a life. Never had to. Never wanted to. Usually addicts are so miserable that they'll do themselves in if they get to a point.

Or they'll sober up.

Maybe I'll try that road again…if I make it out of here to try. It could work. I think.

Maybe.

Maybe if there were more for me than what's been.

But first, save Nora, save myself and then…

I hear a grunt and then a cry of pain towards the end of the hall. It echoes off the concrete and drives me forward.

It's the second to last door on my right. I edge to the frame, my back presses tightly against the wall. Leaning left, I look over my shoulder into the room. Nora's off to the left, hanging from a set of chains extending from the ceiling. The tear in her shirt along her left side reveals bloody, black and blue skin. A table is next to her with a few items laid out, a knife, forceps, and matches. The only other person in there is Howard Evocovich. The mover Darius identified.

His profile snaps through my mind.

Ukranian. Mean. Old organized crime.

I dart back to safety and bite my lip.

My choices aren't great. My dominant hand is busted. I have a gun that's getting heavier to wield by the minute and the floor keeps on wanting to somersault. The ache from my shoulder is the only thing that's keeping it from not going full tilt-a-whirl on me.

Surprise.

That's all that I've got working for me right now.

I could just pop him, one shot to the head and call it a day. Self-defense and all that. But I'm not a great shot with my left.

I'm not a great shot period.

Darius has tried to teach me and I do okay, but it's usually with both hands. My scores are always solid. Maybe I can make that work for me.

I shake my head and come to a conclusion.

Larger targets are always better and I don't want to hit Nora. I draw in a breath, shut my eyes for a split second and let it go. Launching myself off the wall, I round the corner as swiftly and quietly as I can. I bring the muzzle of the gun up just as Howard looks up from his table of torture instruments. I lay pressure on the trigger and squeeze off a round high and to the right.

Fuck.

That gives him enough time to reach for his own sidearm, but I'm quicker, adjusting my grip and line of site. The gun bucks in my hand as I let off another round.

It hits its mark though. High, on the right side, it spins my target around and drops him. I move fast, around the table and to his side. He's scrambling against the concrete. I lower my gun, aim and the gun jumps again, letting off a single round in his hip.

He screams. I threaten him, "Move again and I take off the family jewels." He stills. Sweat drips from the end of my nose and splashes down on the floor.

I take the cuffs from the back pocket of my jeans and toss them on his stomach. "Make yourself useful and tie yourself up. Make them nice and tight around that pole." I direct him to the support pillar off to his left and I watch as he scoots himself over.

"Straddle it," I indicate with a wave the gun. He rolls his eyes at me, but does as instructed. The cuffs ratchet close and I say, "Tighter." I motion again until I see the skin of his wrists pinch up around the edges of the metal.

Satisfied that he's not going anywhere, I finally turn my attention to Nora. "You're a sight," I tease her. I can't help it. This need to playfully goad her until she huffs and harrumphs and smiles my way.

"You'd still do me," she rasps thickly. A small, cocky smile spreads over her lips and tears prick my eyes.

"How we gonna get you down?" I wonder. Looking around for something to get us some leverage. I look around at the table, look at the legs. They're bolted to the floor.

Fuck.

That leaves us with one option. I'm not sure who it's going to hurt more, me or her. Sighing, I flick the safety on and tuck the gun in the front part of my waist. I stoop down a little and wrap my good arm around Nora's thighs and lift. She cries out, squirming to try and get away from the source of her pain, but I manage to get her free as she falls forward. I drop her as gently as possible to floor.

"Fuck!" she hisses.

"Christ!" I grunt, dropping to my knees next to her. I fish for the keys that Geno left me with and reach for her battered wrists. I fumble, missing the keyhole once, before catching it right. The lock springs lose and the cuff opens. I make short work of the second before tossing both the key and the cuffs to the far side of the room.

Nora looks me over as she massages her wrists, wincing as the feeling starts to work itself back into them. "Why?" she asks, cocking her head to the side.

My eyebrow arcs at the question and she motions towards a bleeding Ukrainian mobster. I shrug with my left shoulder. "Couldn't leave you."

I hope that's enough for her.

"You could have. Should have been easy for you to leave me once you were free," she croaks.

Instead of answering, I motion her backwards to the wall where we can both rest against. We settle against the cool of the dark concrete. I press my left shoulder to her right one. Rest my head in the crook of her neck to wait on our cavalry. "No, I couldn't."


	13. Lilly White Wings

**Ch. 13 – Lilly White Wings**

* * *

It takes every ounce of will power I have to not wince as I flash my badge to the uniformed officer guarding the door I need to get through. She dips her chin as I shove my shield back onto my waist and shuffle into the room.

She's alone. I knew she would be. I watched several agents come and go from the room over three hours. It took another two to muster up some semblance of will power and the courage to come and see her.

I push open the door and hear the monitor she's attached. It shows a slow, steady heartbeat. I'm sure the drugs they have her on are the primary cause for that. The break in her wrist required surgery. The dislocated shoulder was set. They also found a laceration on the back of her head. That required stitches. They put some pins in her wrist, from what they were able to tell me.

What Dan was able to tell me.

No one else is saying much of anything to me about her. No one really thinks they need to.

Except Dan. Dan knows. Kira hasn't put two and two together yet. I hope she never does.

I let the door close behind me with a soft snick as I engage the lock. I figure we can have a few hours together before anyone else comes knockin' for answers. I shuffle forward trying to decide on sitting or standing and what would be less painful.

The two broken ribs and the stab wound have caused more pain than what I thought possible. If I sit, I'll have to get up…

That's an unpleasant thought.

"You're startin' to creep me out, Supergirl," Nikki's voice, thick with anesthesia and sleep, break the stillness. I blink and look up at cloudy brown eyes.

"Just trying to decide if I want to stand or sit," I answer and move closer, coming up to her uninjured left side. My thighs press again the edge of the bed as I lean over her.

"Hmm, stand," she mumbles, shifting in the bed to look up at me. Her face is relaxed and there's an easy smile teasing her lips that shouldn't really be there given the circumstances.

Nodding, I reach out and rest my right hand on her forearms, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "How are you feeling?" I ask, my words stilted, awkward.

"Not feeling much of anything right now," she says, indicating with a nod towards the I.V.'s dripping a steady stream of pain killers and fluid into her system. "You?"

"Could be better. Could be worse," I admit and tense as she shifts to lace our hands together.

Her thumb rubs circles against my palm as she asks, "How much do you know?"

"Not a lot. The feds have kept us out of it. They don't know you and I…" I start.

"They won't. Not from me at least," she interrupts me.

"I…" I stall trying to put my thoughts in order. It's so hard. There's so much I'd like to say, but not much of it matters. Not now. Not sure if it ever really did matter.

"I owe you, though. Some explanation," she cuts into my thoughts.

"Not…"

The squeeze of her hand stops me. "I do. Darius'll have my hide, but I don't know where he's…"

"Gone, from what Dan told me. They went to get him, bring him in. His place was empty. Geno's too," I answer that lingering question for her.

"Good. He doesn't need to be a part of any of…"

"Good?" I snap. "You two were…and you're—" I indicate her state in the bed.

"He's doing what he promised. Besides, I have everything the feds want. It's all safe," she cuts me off.

"What?" my question the least intelligent one I could come up with, but the only one I can muster right now.

"Cliff's Notes: I was hauled in about five years ago with Darius on trafficking charges. We cut a deal with the U.S. Attorney's office to feed them information on larger trafficking rings in exchange for immunity." She stops and swallows. "Water?" I grab the cup sitting on the bedside table with the straw and offer it to her. A few pulls on the straw and she swallows.

"We've gone city to city over the past four years or so. Developing an exit plan, socking money away and things we'd need, all while feeding information back to the feds so that they can make busts," she's slow and deliberate in her explanation. "I've offered to testify this time. Those kids…"

"But you'll be…" my head spins at the implications.

"They're trying to get me to sign up for Witness Protection," she confirms. "I keep on telling them no."

"But they'll, Nikki, they'll come after you," I try to reason.

She shakes her head. "I've got a plan. One I intend on sticking too just as soon as everyone is locked up like they need to be. You need to know, I didn't know about the kids. If I'd…"

"I know. I know. You don't need to…" I know she didn't know. Her reactions in the van told me as much. The room quiets after I cut her off. I look her over, from the top of her unruly mop of brunette locks, down to the feet hidden under the thin hospital blankets.

She tugs on my arm and I comply, not needing her to tell me more. Toeing off my shoes, I slide into the space she's made for me. Careful of my injured side, I press against her left and she rests her head on my shoulder.

My side burns, breathing's a bitch, but the fire fades as we settle into each other. The room stills and I reach across my body to trace random patterns up and down her left arm. Her head burrows a little deeper and I sink against her.

"Do you think," she whispers against my neck, "if things were different?"

I press my lips against the top of her head and nod. I don't really trust my voice right now and the tears leaking down make it hard to see.

"Aren't any easy answers though," she mumbles, her breath heating up already warm skin. "Kinda wish I'd met you years ago…"

"Me too," I mumble against the top of her head. "What do you think we'd be doing now—if we'd met earlier?"

"Hmm, bickering about something, maybe have a dog. I always wanted one."

"Name?" I ask as I smooth some of her hair back.

She shrugs at the question. "I'd leave that up to you."

"What else?" I ask out of a need I didn't think I had. There's this crazy part of me that thinks that maybe somehow, we could make this work.

"We'd be living together, obviously, with the dog. I'd…be doing something else. Maybe a dance studio. I've always liked tap. Not much call for it in what I usually do. I'd worry about you being a cop and all. But we'd be happy. I'd goad you. You'd huff and puff and I'd kiss away the scowl I've grown to…" her voice chokes off and the tears leak hot down my neck. "I'm sorry," she mumbles, sniffling against me. "I lo…lo…"

"Shhh," I whisper against her. "Me too," I choke out and hold on tighter. "Me too." Another life, another time and I can see us together. It's so clear and right that my heart stutters, clenching in my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut tight, willing the pain to subside. "It's okay though," I manage through my tears. "It's just not our time, y'know?"

"Yeah," she mumbles as her lips graze skin.

"I…maybe next life? Maybe we'll get that dog and that place to call ours. You could save me from boring family functions and I'd…" I swallow to ease the constriction of my throat. "I'd wake you up on our anniversary with breakfast in bed."

The image paints itself. Nikki would be lying in bed, the sheets low on her hips. Her bare back shines in the morning sun that's peeking through the curtains. I'd be sneaking in and set the tray on the bed to wake her.

Maybe another life, another time. Just not this life, not this time.


End file.
